Omnipotent
by mktoddsparky
Summary: When Jasper dies in a car crash the remaining two friends must find solace in each other, as well as new feelings. But what if Jasper's death wasn't an accident? Will Henry and Maggie be able to unearth the truth before the murderer strikes again?
1. Prologue

**_Omnipotent: A Menry Story_**

_**Hello, my good people! I bring you my first Unnatural History Fanfiction story that I hope you will greatly enjoy. For all you Jaggie fans, if you don't like Jasper being murdered and Henry and Maggie falling for each other then you might want to stop reading. I hope you don't, however, because I don't plan to just make this a mushy story, that's not my writing style. It will be romance, but let's add some action and mystery in there, shall we?**_

_**Ages: The three main characters (Henry, Maggie and Jasper) are all seniors in high school so that would make them…seventeen, going on eighteen, yes?**_

* * *

**P r o l o g u e**

* * *

Near the door  
He paused to stand  
As he took his class ring  
Off her hand  
All who were watching  
Did not speak as a silent tear  
Ran down his cheek  
And through his mind  
The memories ran  
Of the moments they walked  
And ran in the sand hand in hand  
But now her eyes were so terribly cold  
For he would never again  
Have her to hold  
They watched in silence  
As he bent near  
And whispered the words  
I love you in her ear  
He touched her face and started to cry  
As he put on his ring and wanted to die  
And just then the wind began to blow  
As they lowered her casket into the snow

This is what happens to man alive when friends let friends drink and drive.

- The Silent Tear

* * *

In Washington DC the first snow of winter had begun to drizzle down from the clouded skies, covering the grounds of Smithson High in a shimmery silver layer of icicles. Crumpled, dull-brown leaves littered the stone pathways and various sidewalks, residue from the once brilliant display of green on the now bare trees. Students huddled under the school's awnings, protected somewhat from the frost-bitten weather out in the grey world ahead of them; freshman to seniors griped about the fact that the fall semester didn't let out for several more weeks.

A shiny, red Corvette rounded the corner of Berkely Street, the headlights illuminating the school ahead as the driver smoothly directed the expensive vehicle into the nearest parking lot. The young woman inside smirked at the fact that, being a senior and an over-achiever, she didn't have a class for first period and so she could sleep in.

As the engine's roar died off the driver's door swung open in a slow arch and a petite figure emerged. Waist length brunette hair swayed lusciously around her elevated cheekbones and upturned shoulders, her dark brown eyes calculated the scene in front of her cautiously and she wore a small, confident yet humbling smile on her face.

Margaret Winnock glanced in the direction of the school as she bumped the edge of her hip against the driver's door, allowing it to glide shut. A simple click of a button on her key-ring locked the car, an earth-shattering alarm set to ready just in case some bozo attempted to break into her precious ride.

A group of guys gawked at her new car as Maggie made her way onto the sidewalk running perpendicular to the parking lot; instead of waving at them like a cheerleader would have done she tossed her head to the side, ignoring their boisterous remarks. _School is always more important than boys, _she reminded herself silently as she trudged through the snow caking the walk-way towards her next class: Chemistry with Mr. Blatz.

"Maggie!" A familiar voice rang out and a smile touched the girl's lips as her best friend and newly transferred student Henry Griffin came to a sliding stop in front of her.

"Hey, where were you?" She asked him, a dab of annoyance darkening her tone for a second. "I told you that I would pick you up at 8:15 but you weren't there!" She cried, crossing her arms as he fell into step with her, shortening his stride to match hers.

"Sorry, I was out looking for Jasper," Henry admitted with a frown, glancing in her direction. "I couldn't find him anywhere this morning and he's never late for school."

"He probably just drove here early, you know Jasper," Maggie attempted to reassure her friend, linking her arm through his as they approached the towering building. But inside her reasonable façade lurked worry for her other guy friend, one who'd been repeatedly hitting on her lately.

"I don't have time to date, besides, I don't even like anyone," she muttered under her breath, only realizing a minute later that she'd actually spoken her embarrassing thoughts aloud.

"Huh? What did you say?" The blonde male asked his best friend, still slightly scatterbrained himself. It wasn't like Jasper to just take off, not like him at all. A horrible suspicion began to form in his over-active imagination but he brushed it off, not willing to worry Maggie.

"Oh, nothing," Maggie mumbled, a nervous laugh emitting from her pursed pink lips as they dashed under the awning of the school. "Just talking to myself, that's all."

She grinned comfortably at Henry as he slid ahead of her, opening the door wide and holding it for her as she stepped through into the crowded hallway. "Thanks."

"You're very welcome," he answered politely, grabbing hold of her left hand as they migrated through the throng of teenagers gossiping and grabbing various books from their lockers. For the most part the kids at this school were well behaved, considering their parents were government officials or positions of the like. Of course, there were always the exceptions.

Maggie shivered as a hand stretched out, hindering the two of them from moving forward. She felt Henry squeeze her fingers gently, lending her some comfort in the fact that he was there no matter what. She controlled the instinctive blush from creeping up her cheeks; she and Henry were just friends but for a guy he was pretty good-looking, anyone could notice that. Add his charming personality to the mix and you had yourself excellent boyfriend material. _But we're just friends._

"Margaret, Henry," the dull voice of Reed Parkinson began as the boy glanced at them, a wry smirk etched onto his pale face. She gulped and stiffened instantly, forcing a gentle smile on her face.

"Hey, Reed. Sorry, we're kind of…late for class," Maggie lied, her heart beating in her chest harder and harder with each second. Reed had transferred to Smithson after his mom died in a horrible car crash. But no matter how sympathetic she was towards him he still gave her the creeps.

"Class doesn't start for eight more minutes," the taller boy remarked quietly and Henry pushed Maggie behind him a little bit; he did it almost without thinking, especially when his danger radar went off in his head. And right about now it was ringing incessantly.

"We have to ask Mr. Blatz a question," Henry supplied in a neutral tone laced with warning. He glanced slightly back to meet Maggie's slightly frightened gaze and smiled a little in her direction. "But it was nice chatting."

Reed's arm slowly retracted from Maggie's waist and the brunette female let out a tense breath she hadn't been aware she was holding.

"I'll look forward to seeing you both again, very soon," Reed muttered, his chilling silver eyes connecting with Maggie's chocolate orbs. She shuddered, pressing into Henry's back as the disturbing teenager walked off into the throng, still glancing ominously in her direction.

"Are you alright?" Henry asked her in a quiet voice, pulling her into a brief hug before releasing her. His hazel orbs gazed at her, concern visible in the tinted green depths.

"Yeah," she told him, forcing yet another smile onto her face. It did no good to act scared, especially with the danger past them. "Let's get to class before the second bell rings."

Henry followed her as she set off in a brisk place towards the Chemistry lab, where they were greeted with a disturbing sight. An empty chair, Jasper's to be precise. To others it may have just seemed that the attentive brunette male was simply playing hooky for the first time in academic life. But to the boy's two best friends it handed out sinking hearts and a feeling of confusion.

Jasper never missed class; it just wasn't in his nature. Heck, this was the teenager who'd built the huge Wild West exhibit just for approval from a member of the director's board at Yale University.

Something was wrong.

* * *

"Tea?" Bryan Bartlett asked the brunette as she hopped onto the counter, swinging her legs monotonously back and forth. In the far corner Henry pulled the drawstring on the curtains, allowing them to undulate down until they hit the floor, hiding the curved quarter moon as it gleamed far up in the night sky.

"Sure, thanks," Maggie responded quietly, hugging herself as her gaze locked with the plaid design on the carpet below her. She could distinctly make out the roar of a truck as it rambled through the heavily lit neighborhood, specks of light that were the machine's head-lights illuminating the front yard for a moment.

"What about you, Henry?" Mr. Bartlett asked his nephew cautiously, wondering what the boy's reaction would be; the blonde male was pacing steadily over by the china cabinet, his face an ambiguous mask.

"No thanks," Henry muttered, not even looking in his uncle's direction as he continued his pacing.

Bryan turned back to the pot of water on the stove, his trembling fingers fighting to turn the gas heater to life. His un-coordinated movements were the sole sign of how worried he was about his son.

Maggie's gaze flickered up to look at Henry and she found herself moving across the room to reach him. "Henry, this wasn't your fault," she found herself mumbling softly, her fingers stretching out to touch him on the arm. A brief shock ran through her at contact with his warm skin.

"Jasper lives here, of course it's my fault," the teenage boy responded angrily, shaking his arm out of her grasp. "What could I have done differently?" He asked himself in a critical yet musing tone.

Maggie felt the tears sting her eyes. She didn't cry very often but when she did it was for a good reason. "You can't control his choices, Henry," she whispered, her voice shaky as she backed away a few steps.

Henry's face shot up and his hazel eyes connected with her trembling figure. "Mags…" His tone was warm, a taste of the old Henry that she knew so well.

"If anything it's just as much my fault as yours," she interjected him guiltily, a tear rolling slowly down her left cheek. She missed Jasper so much that it hurt. "Maybe if I hadn't turned him down so many times, maybe if I'd agreed to go out with him, then maybe he wouldn't be gone." She threw the blatant statement out there, desperately trying not to cry.

A moment later she felt Henry's gentle yet strong arms go around her, pulling her into his chest. Refusing to let any more tears spill, she rested her head on her best friend's chest, inhaling his comforting scent.

"This wasn't your fault, Mags," Henry reassured her, his fingers running over her back in little circles as she clutched his shirt tighter. As soon as she couldn't see his face anymore his secure mask dropped, replaced by a confused, frightened one and he lowered his cheek into her hair, relaxing slightly.

A second later Maggie pulled away, brushing at the dark circles under her eyes. Enough was enough and at least she could stand upright, she determined. "I'm sorry," she told him, smiling for his benefit. A smile nearly equal to hers spread across Henry's face as he moved towards the kitchen.

She followed him, gratefully taking the cup from Mr. Bartlett. The smell of chamomile entered her nostrils as she inhaled slowly, a moment later taking a tiny sip. The hot drink burned a trail down her throat, but she welcomed the pain. It managed to distract her for a brief moment in time from the real problem here. "Thanks," she choked out weakly, burying her lips into the cup once more as a dull flush suffused her cheeks.

"Anytime, Maggie," the older man replied, giving her a last sympathetic look before heading upstairs to his office.

Maggie chanced another glance at her blonde friend; he wasn't paying attention to her, instead, he was gazing into space with wide eyes. "Henry?" She called out, but he gave no answer.

And that's when it happened.

Henry grasped Maggie by her shoulders, pushing her into the foyer where he landed on top of her, hiding her from human view in a protective move. A split second later there was the sound of blasting horns and a sickening crunching sound from the street and a car spun out of control into the side of the house, breaking through with a sharp crack.

Glass flew everywhere and Maggie screamed as some shards cut into her arms, legs and face, while Henry fought to shield her from the clear missiles. She heard him grunt above her and his face burrowed into her neck, his warm breath tickling her skin and making her shiver. Mr. Bartlett gave a loud, shocked yell as he stampeded down the stairs, nearly passing out as he saw the car lying in his living room.

A minute passed before Henry was finally able to move, helping Maggie to her feet and apologizing profusely for squishing her. She couldn't voice a coherent reply; her body was trembling so violently that she could barely stand on her two feet and Henry had to support her.

There was no driver in the car but other dented remains of a vehicle lay strewn in the street just outside. Maggie flew out towards the other car, her face going stark white as she saw the horrible image.

Jasper. Lying in the driver's seat. His body covered in blood.

She screamed.

Everything after that was a blur: her sprinting over to the smashed red Smart Car, desperately trying to breathe back life into her friend, her lips tasting like blood when they parted from Jasper's for the last time. She was too late.

Jasper Bartlett had already left this world.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES: **

_**Well, how was that for a prologue? I know, depressing, but there's more action and romance to come. Hopefully I can update soon, but you never know.**_


	2. Part One

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

_**Hey guys, I was so thrilled to get several reviews on my story merely an hour after I posted it that I decided to write this part up. Sorry if the action hasn't fully kicked in yet, but I need to set the stage first. Enjoy!**_

* * *

**P a r t O n e **

* * *

Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, love leaves a memory no one can steal. ~From a headstone in Ireland

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. ~Kahlil Gibran

* * *

**T h r e e W e e k s L a t e r **

* * *

The clock chimed one-am on Maggie's ornate bedside table and she yawned, her lips flapping open to reveal her stretching, pink tongue. Her hand quickly slapped up to cover the unseemly sight, her eyes watering slight with lack of sleep as they fluttered closed and then open once more. "Keep reading," she mumbled to herself, almost incoherently.

The text of her chemistry chapter was in plain Arial, 11 point font, the worst of all combinations to struggle through at this ghastly hour. But she'd rather stay up all night until the stars slowly ceased to twinkle and the sky lightened to a dull red, extrapolating the nearness of the dawn. Rather that then to face the dark despair of her nightmares, she figured with another exhausted sigh.

Maggie hadn't slept in what felt like months, although in reality, it'd been no more than three weeks, really. She gulped, the semi-cheerful mask slipping off her face to be replaced by one of sadness. The simple remembrance of Jasper in the hunk of destroyed metal he called his Smart Car…she had to blink back tears just thinking about that horrific night.

"Alright, that's enough," she stated firmly, forcing her scattered brain back to target. Flipping the page she began reading once more, her tone wavering as she fought to stay awake.

"In this equation, P is the pressure of the gas, V is its volume, T is its temperature and N is the number of moles of that gas." Maggie battled the haze emitting from her tired gaze and continued on.

"The ideal gas constant can have several values, depending on what units are used. For our purposes, we will learn only one value: R is equal to 0.0821 liters multiplied by a.t.m and divided by moles times Kelvin. I expect you to memorize this." She paused to let out a groan; she hadn't understood a word the passage said but she was determined to finish at least this page before she moved on to other subjects. _Hooray for Chemistry,_ she thought sarcastically, waving her hands just above her face for showgirl effects before allowing her arms to drop by her sides.

"Maybe it's time to move on to Lit," she wondered vaguely, not really caring anymore. Propping the new square book upon her crossed legs she opened it to the precise page; she'd dog-eared it as soon as Mr. Dickson had assigned the homework just that morning. It wasn't actually due until Monday, considering this was now Friday evening and she should be out there partying like all the other seniors.

But for Maggie anyways, her senioritis had developed the opposite way that it was originally founded to act. She'd spent nearly every ounce of her spare time buried in school at home or researching in the library. Her parents still didn't feel that she was responsible enough to own a laptop, even a simple Mac, so she was told to use the libraries dinosaur computers.

"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, should be a good read," she mused thoughtfully to herself as her fingers skimmed the colorful, mystique print.

"It is an ancient Mariner,  
And he stoppeth one of three.  
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,  
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,  
And I am next of kin;  
The guests are met, the feast is set:  
Mayst hear the merry din…"

About a half hour later the teenage girl had made it to the last several paragraphs, her eyelids drooping to near closure with the immense effort to read.

"The Mariner, whose eye is bright,  
Whose beard with age is hoar,  
Is gone; and now the Wedding-Guest  
Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned,  
And is of sense forlorn:  
A sadder and a wiser man  
He rose the morrow morn."

At that precise moment in which she was wondering why the heck she was still up pursuing this crazy objective her cell phone went off. _Who else would be awake at this time in the morning, _she pondered as she read the caller ID, her cheekbones turning red as she did. It was Henry. Flipping the communicative device open she pressed it to her ear.

"What, Henry, it's one in the morning," she grumbled into the phone, her voice sounding like mush.

"Which is exactly why you should be asleep and not answering my phone call," Henry responded, his tone chipper than ever. But if you looked closely you could make out an undercurrent of despond. He'd been just as messed up by Jasper's death as she had.

"Really funny, haha, I'm so amused," Maggie snapped, way past the point of being civil to a single human being. "How do you sound so awake?"

"I'm meditating," he answered simply, a slight thumping noise emitting from his end; he was probably shifting postures from the Crane to the Downward Dog Hump or something like that, she assumed. "My parents and I spent a summer in India and we read the Jewel Ornament of Liberation, written by Gampopa, in which he describes the ten bhumis, or stages, of meditation that generally lead one to enlightenment. I am in the first stage now." Henry made a content humming sound.

"Yeah, no offense, but I'm too tired to care right now," she answered sharply, running a shaky hand through her brunette tresses, wincing as they caught in a huge knot. _Great_, she thought, _I'll probably have to cut out a chunk of my hair out now!_

"Why are you awake and not asleep?" Henry questioned in a serious, slow voice. "It is, as you say, one in the morning." He hummed again, the sound thrumming in his chest like a bird or wasp.

"I'm studying," Maggie replied defensively, a bit of a whine attached to her voice. She really didn't want to share the real reason for her apparent self-chosen insomnia.

"On a Saturday morning, when you should be sleeping in," the blonde boy pointed out and Maggie could almost picture him standing on one hand, his feet wrapped around his head in some weird Buddhist move.

"My life, my choices," she insisted, practically squirming to get out of this conversation.

"I know," Henry paused, as though searching for the right words to say. There were more shifting sounds from his end and then silence.

"Uh, Henry?" The brunette female asked, a disturbing feeling building up in the pit of her stomach. Last time he'd blocked her out like this was the night that Jasper…Maggie swallowed hard, pressing a hand urgently to her gut.

Before she could control the nauseous urge the girl was up and sprinting towards the bathroom where, leaning over the circular white disk, she ejected the half-digested remains of her dinner into the toilet, the simple smell of her up-charge making her want to vomit all over again.

Maggie plugged her nose, desperate not to throw up more than once. She wasn't anorexic, or bulimic, nothing like that; the pain over losing a friend was still so fresh, however, that it'd stolen away her recent appetite and now her stomach was way shrunk down.

"Mags, are you okay?" Henry's voice shouted from the phone as Maggie walked briskly back to her bed, flopping on it and reaching for her bottle of water that she always stashed on her plain white nightstand, just in case. Sliding open the cap the young woman guzzled down a few sips before letting out a smooth sigh.

"I'm fine, just not feeling well," she reassured her best friend, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You should go to bed, it's late."

"No, I'm making some soup and coming over there right now," Henry insisted, his tone near frantic with worry for his brunette friend.

"Shhh," Maggie scolded in a hiss, her eyes darting towards her bedroom door as it creaked. The visit to EW's mansion a few months ago certainly hadn't helped her fear of disturbing noises. "My mom's sleeping, so you can't come over. I'll be good by tomorrow." The girl soothed him softly, picturing running her small hand through his straight blonde locks.

A moment later, however, Maggie snapped that image from her head; she was only friends with the sophisticated male and had no right to be dreaming of such things.

"Alright," he sounded disgruntled, "but I'm coming over tomorrow morning to take care of you no matter what you say."

"Fine," Maggie caved. "Now, shush, and go to sleep, please."

"I could say the same about you," he hinted, laughing softly on his end. The sound sent goose-bumps up the back of the girl's neck and she shivered.

"Night, Henry," Maggie answered surely, smiling as she heard him chuckle once more.

"Goodnight, Maggie," he responded sweetly and as she heard the dial tone from his side of the call she allowed her phone to swish shut, effectively ending the conversation.

Pulling the covers over her shivering form Maggie slid her midnight blue retainers into the top and bottom of her mouth, preventing her teeth from misaligning any more than they already had. Switching her bedside table off and turning her fan off so that she could hear any sound that permeating the silence the young woman burrowed into her barrage of silky pillows, biting her lip anxiously.

"If only you knew, Henry," Maggie Winnock whispered into the blackness that seemed to swallow her room alive before burying her face into the nearest pillow, refusing to look at the rest of the room. If she did it would only result in the nightmares lasting longer.

The minutes ticked by, each sliver that the second hand on the brunette's old-fashioned clock moved she let out a shivering breath, hugging the pillow to her right closer to her heaving chest.

More than anything in the world Maggie didn't want to close her eyes but she knew that if she didn't sleep now then she would be a total mess tomorrow. Then again, she already was a wreck barely concealed by a thin strip of skin called her face, she reflected grimly.

It was only a matter of time before her fake barriers bled away, leaving her susceptible to her classmate's taunts.

Finally, Maggie allowed her eyelids to flutter closed, locking her in a box of blind senses.

* * *

_I was leaning against my locker surrounded by my two best guy friends in the whole wide world, Henry and Jasper. Henry was going on about some form of karate display while Jasper's eyes were fixed on me, his expression guarded. "Hey Mags?" He asked and I glanced his way. _

"_Yeah, Jasper?"_

"_I was…uh…wondering if…" the brunette male stuttered uncomfortably, his cheeks lighting up a bright, cherry red. "Would you go on a date with me?" He wondered hopefully._

"_Of course not, you piece of trash. Why the hell would I ever date someone like you?" My dream Maggie taunted him until tears filled his dark brown eyes. Without a word he turned and rushed off…_

* * *

"No….Jasper," She muttered until her breath, still stuck in a paradox of despair. A frown worked its way onto her face, her forehead already beading with sweat.

* * *

_I was screaming at the top of my lungs as I rushed towards the dented remains of Jasper's Smart Car, my gaze connecting with the single figure in the busted up vehicle. _

_All the color left my face and the tears began to streak down my now pale cheeks as I raced towards my friend. "No, please!"_

_My fingers felt for his pulse but there was none and without thinking I began to perform CPR. Compressing his chest and then breathing into his mouth. His lips tasted like blood, metallic and sharp. _

_But it did no good. Henry's arms were around me then as the ambulance came screeching around the corner and I realized that he'd dialed 911. The paramedics jumped out of the various fire engines and ambulances, heading straight for Jasper's car. _

"_You have to save him!" I screeched, fighting to break out of Henry's grasp, tears still streaming in waves down my shrunken cheeks. _

_But they did nothing. They simply lifted Jasper onto a stretcher and slowly loaded him onto the ambulance, no hectic pace to their movements. Why hurry when the patient is already dead?_

_Once more I tried to writhe out of Henry's arms but he squeezed me tighter and I was aware of his tears hitting the back of my neck. Henry never cried and I should have paid more attention to him, but now all I could think of was Jasper, my lifeless friend. _

"_SAVE HIM!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, desperate to do something. But I couldn't. I was just too late. "Please, PLEASE! JASPER….."…._

* * *

Maggie yelled as she was thrust from my dream and back into reality. Her hands griped frantically at the comforter, and she fought back panic as it got tangled around her thrashing body. Sweat literally dripped off her face and she was gasping for oxygen. "Jasper!"

"Maggie, Maggie, hunny," Mrs. Winnock attempted to soothe her daughter as she barged through the door, enfolding the teenage girl crying on the bed in her embrace. Maggie's head thudded against her mother's chest as sobs ripped out of her, heart-broken, terrified sobs. She was lost and needed mommy's comfort.

"It wasn't real, darling, it wasn't real," she continued to chant over and over as one of her hands combed through Maggie's drenched hair, the other drawing little circles on her daughter's back. Slowly her breathing de-accelerated but she continued to grasp onto her mother tightly, her crescent shaped fingernails digging into Mrs. Winnock's fair skin and probably hurting her. The mother gave no complaint, however.

Tears rolled slowly down Maggie's face as she glanced up at the woman who'd given birth to her and dealt with her for the past eighteen years, "It….it f-felt so r-real this t-time, Mom." She stuttered in a broken tone, feeling like some stupid crybaby. "I miss him….I m-miss h-him."

Mrs. Winnock didn't even have to ask who her daughter was talking about. She already knew. "I know you do, hunny. I know you do," she whispered softly, crooning to Maggie like she was a little child again.

After twenty minutes huddled in the woman's embrace Maggie fell back against the covers, grimacing as she swallowed hard and her throat throbbed. Her nose felt clogged up from all the crying she'd just done.

Michelle Winnock smoothed the clumps of dark brown hair back from her daughter's forehead, smiling sadly down at her little girl. Maggie bit her lip once more, gazing off into space in a stray attempt to calm her frazzled nerves. Sniffing, she reached for a Kleenex, blowing harshly into it to slightly reduce the pressure in her nasal passages.

"I'm so sorry, Margaret," her mother whispered, planting a chaste kiss on her little girl's forehead and Maggie inwardly winced, hating for acting so weak. Jasper would have wanted her to be out there living her up, she supposed, quickly falling back into her blanket of despair.

"Sorry for ruining your shirt," she managed to mumble, averting her guilty gaze from the older woman.

Michelle sighed, wishing there was more she could do for her surprisingly stubborn child. Instead, she got up, letting out a sigh of her own as she regained her sense of composure. She needed to remain strong for her heart-broken baby, no matter how much she longed to break down herself. "Get some rest, darling. You look exhausted."

As Mrs. Winnock closed the door softly behind her Maggie snuggled back into her bed, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks; they were the last she'd allow for the time being. "I'm a mess," she sighed, closing her eyes once more and hoping for a dream-less slumber.

* * *

"_We are here to mourn the loss of Jasper Marcus Bartlett," the pastor intoned as he lit the first candle, the flame erupting suddenly to life. "His wishes were to be cremated and we will honor him in the only way we can."_

_My head drooped forward as next to me Henry focused on lighting his own candle. A moment later he held out the open flame in the direction of my smooth palm. I took the lighter hurriedly but for one reason or another I was unable to flick the switch. Jasper couldn't have wanted this, I determined as tears began to roll down my cheeks. _

_Passing the lighter to a rather plump secretary next to me I leaned into Henry's comforting embrace, the warmth from his candle attempting to kindle a sense of hope within me. But there was no use for that anymore; it felt as if all the hope had vanished from the world. I fought back the urge to scream and wail in front of this moderate sized crowd, knowing Jasper wouldn't have liked that, not at all. _

_Once everyone had a lit candle the pastor clapped twice and a little bell rang ominously as four men came out carrying a rectangular wooden box. Jasper's body was in there; that much I knew. Several more tears spilled out from my eyes. _

_The pastor was speaking again but I couldn't bear to listen to the words; I was too heartbroken. A moment later the men lifted the lid off the box, revealing Jasper's body to us. I nearly collapsed at the sight of my friend's stiff, lifeless form just sitting there, about to be incinerated._

_A few seconds later everyone through the candles into the box and Jasper's body caught on fire at once. The acrid scent of smoke filled my senses as dark grey puffs emitted from my friend's illuminated form. Turning, I buried my head into Henry's chest, unable to watch Jasper being burned to a crisp, no matter how much he'd wanted it to happen. _

_How could God do this to us?_

* * *

Maggie awoke with a little start, the smell of the fire still tingling in her nose. The memory of Jasper's funeral to cremation send a wave of desperate agony clawing its way to the surface, but she reined it in. Suddenly, the young woman realized that I was no longer alone in my room.

"Maggie?" Henry asked quietly, his hazel orbs fixed on the girl lying despondently on the four-poster bed, filled with an indescribable emotion.

She sat up a little, instantly swooning back against the pillows as a wave of vertigo hit her. Ugh. A quick glance at her clock showed that it was only a quarter to eight and a groan escaped Maggie's lips. Her head felt like it was about to burst with pain and she gripped at it with fingers like claws. "Y-yeah," She answered weakly.

"Are you alright?" He asked right away, not budging from his spot in the corner. "I brought soup." He held up a can of Clam Chowder and instinctively Maggie licked her lips.

"I'm fine," she reassured him for the thousandth time, pausing to yawn emphatically. "Just not feeling the best."

"Are you hungry?" He questioned in a collected tone, rising to his feet. His eyes were flashing around her room, landing on the various pictures of Jasper and Maggie crumpled and shredded up, the remains tossed into her garbage can. He raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"You tore up pictures of him? Why?" He asked, clearly confused.

"I…I just," Maggie couldn't find the right way to describe why she'd torn up all the pictures of Jasper. "It seemed fitting."

Henry didn't ask any more questions on the matter, instead holding up the Clam Chowder once more. "Um, this isn't exactly breakfast material. Shall I make you something else instead?"

"Yeah," she agreed, her stomach growling. "That sounds great."

Maggie munched on a piece of toast while leaning against her countertop, every once in awhile glancing at her best friend as he skillfully flipped a different version of pancakes. Something like latkas or around that. "Thanks for, um, you know," she said awkwardly, balancing a cup of orange juice in her other hand.

"It's no problem at all," he replied fondly, pausing to shoot her a smile before returning to flipping the oddly shaped pancakes.

"So, uh, what were you thinking of doing today?" She asked him in a blasé tone, secretly hoping that whatever he was planning on working on that she could join him. She really needed his company, especially now.

Henry turned off the stove after flipping the last latka-thingy. Carrying over the plate of the delicious circular puffy breakfast items he set them down in between them, his hip resting against the opposite side of the counter. "Uncle Bryan needs me to join him for a meeting downtown," he answered momentarily, a frown driving across his face for a second.

Considering that he was normally a light-hearted young man Maggie focused on sipping her juice for a while, carefully watching Henry as he reached for a pancake, taking a fair sized bite. "That can't possibly taste good without syrup," she determined after monitoring him for a bit.

"When I lived in Germany…" Henry began in his matter-of-fact tone.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, syrup was banned or whatever," Maggie cut him off before he could set off on another one of his historical moments. "But this is America and we eat pancakes with syrup."

Marching over to the fridge the spunky brunette opened the door with a slight tug, exposing the various shelves of food and drink. After a quick glance she spotted the syrup and tugged it out with a small smirk.

"Syrup wasn't banned in Germany," Henry corrected her, chuckling at his brunette friend's ignorance. She glared playfully at him while pouring a little of the syrup into a patterned cup and placing it in the microwave. Setting the timer to 20 seconds she pressed Start and the heating mechanism flickered on, the light-bulb blazing to life.

"They just didn't have any because it was so expensive," the blonde young man continued cheerfully, taking another bite of the international pancake. Maggie made a disgusted face and then brightened considerably as the timer went off.

"Now _this _is how you eat pancakes," She told him superiorly, grabbing a circle of the fluffy goodness and dipping it into the warm syrup. After a good bit of the syrup had saturated the pancake she placed it in her mouth, chewing contentedly.

"Americans are so spoiled," Henry pointed out good-naturedly, still preferring to eat his pancakes plain.

"Anyways, what is the meeting with your Uncle Bryan for?" She changed the subject easily, taking another gulp of her orange juice. The tart taste slithered down her throat.

"We have to discuss…Jasper's will," Henry hesitated before giving it to Maggie straight. She visibly blanched; setting down her second pancake, she grasped her stomach, her appetite suddenly vanished.

"Oh," she managed to say quietly.

"I didn't think you'd want to be there," Henry supplied, his arm stretching across the table-top to gently stroke her suddenly rosy cheek.

"Thanks, you're right," Maggie admitted, her mixed feelings on the matter churning agitatedly.

So much for a moment of peace, she thought with a sigh. Jasper's death seemed to be such a huge part of their lives now; it was almost impossible to ignore. But she had to try. They all did, otherwise the knowledge that their closest friend was gone forever would destroy them.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES: **

**__****I hope you enjoyed this one; it was going to be a little longer but I didn't want the story to have, like, three parts, so yeah.**


	3. Part Two

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

_**Well here you are. Another chapter that I hope you'll enjoy. I've gotten some comments about how this story seems more Jaggie than Menry and I wanted to clear things up. Yes, Henry and Maggie will get together in the end, but these things take time. You can't rush relationships; at least that's my take on the matter. I could be wrong. But considering this is my story…anyways, I'll stop rambling now so you can read and possibly review ;)**_

* * *

_Uncertainty is the only certainty there is, and knowing how to live with insecurity is the only security__ – John Allan Paulos_

_He says, no varnish can hide the grain of the wood; the more varnish you __wood; and that the more varnish you__put on, the more the grain will express itself. –Unknown_

_Uncertainty and mystery are energies of life. Don't let them scare you unduly, for they keep boredom at bay and spark creativity__ – R.I. Fitzhenry_

* * *

**P A R T T W O **

* * *

Henry fell into step with his uncle as the two entered the towering office building in the heart of downtown. After getting lost for a good twenty minutes and nearly running over a senior citizen they'd arrived practically unscathed. A smile quirked his lips upward as he wondered what Maggie would think of Bryan's driving skills, especially after he (Bryan) had educated Henry on the fact that driving was a simple task that anyone could accomplish effortlessly.

"Now, Henry," his uncle began in a voice tight with strain, "You must be on your top behavior; this is no place for monkeying around." He told the boy firmly, sadness buried in the depths of the older man's gaze.

"I understand," Henry responded, touching Bryan's arm for a moment; Mr. Bartlett had taken Jasper's death the hardest. It wasn't surprising, considering that he'd lost his wife several years ago to a pile of divorce papers and Jasper was all he'd had left. Now, his uncle probably felt alone and helpless.

"Good," the elder of the two mumbled with a jut of his head.

Just then a very professional looking woman stopped in front of them, a polite yet frosty expression set on her face. She was dressed in a striped blazer complete with tie and pencil tight skirt. Her lips were accentuated with red gloss and her dark brown hair was pulled back into a strict bun, exposing oval shaped pearl studs.

"Mr. Torante will see you both now," she told them in a clipped, impersonal tone. After waiting for precisely four seconds the secretary turned quickly on her heel and led the way, her heels clacking precisely with each step.

"So, did you end up telling Maggie about this?" Bryan Bartlett wondered, glancing down at the slightly shorter blonde.

"Yes, I did," Henry conceded, his hazel orbs flashing with momentary guilt before clearing to a content expression once more. "But I didn't want her to come; it would have upset her too much." His voice softened slightly as he mentioned the attractive brunette back at home.

"Ah," mumbled his uncle, quirking a solitary eyebrow at Henry's obvious change in tone, but he wisely let the subject drop.

"Uncle Bryan…" The teenage male hesitated as though carefully choosing his assortment of words. "What did you think when you saw Jasper in his car that night?" He asked quietly, his voice shaking slightly as he rehashed the horrible memory.

The older man paused for a moment, agony flitting across his pale face, before mumbling, "At first…nothing. What could you possible think? And then, when I saw that he was truly dead, well…" he broke off, unable to continue; the tears were clotting his throat.

"I'm sorry," Henry apologized instantly, feeling responsible for his uncle's sudden change in mood.

"Don't be," Bryan insisted, forcing a tiny smile onto his drawn features. "What about you, Henry? How did you feel?"

"Shocked, mostly," The blonde haired boy admitted after a long silence. "Maggie was screaming and crying…I had to hold her back while the paramedics took Jasper away." He orchestrated dully, following the patterns on the carpet with his tense gaze as they turned onto a near deserted hallway.

Bryan had the feeling that his nephew wasn't done, however, so he remained silent, ascending a narrow staircase first after the secretary. She still wore an impersonal mask, but he could have sworn she'd been listening into their private conversation. Who wouldn't?

"You know," Henry began again, his tone slightly hoarse with emotion this time, "Sometimes I wonder if Maggie had feelings for Jasper. She acted…acts like it." He shrugged, as if dismissing the subject, but Bryan noticed the boy's tense muscles and gritted teeth. This was clearly a sensitive subject.

"I don't think she did," Mr. Bartlett encouraged lightly, unwilling to press the topic too much further, lest his nephew crack. "She always looked up to you both as brothers, I would imagine. Why do Maggie's feelings concern you so much, Henry?" He prodded cautiously, wondering what the boy's reaction would be.

Sure enough, Henry's shoulders stiffened at the intrusion. "I….I don't know," he answered slowly, a dead lie that his perceptive uncle could pick up a mile away.

"We're here, gentleman," the secretary interrupted suddenly, leading them to a set of double doors. "Head on in and take a seat. Mr. Torante is waiting," she pointed out, her nostrils flaring slightly.

"Thank you," Bryan responded gently, having the feeling that Henry was in no decent position to talk.

They entered the spacious meeting room, blinking rapidly as they encountered windows on three sides of the room, blazing sunlight pouring into the area. A single long, black table stretched practically from wall to wall horizontally, bucket-styled chairs peeping out every several feet.

"Take a seat, if you would," a warm voice entertained, and Henry's gaze flickered over to the left, connecting with a pair of deep, silver eyes. The boy blinked in shock before composing his face; the only other person with silver eyes he'd ever met was Reed.

"Excuse me," Henry called out to the man as he sat down several chairs away, his fingers fiddling with each other on the granite table-top.

"Yes, young man?" Mr. Torante responded, leaning forward as though to prepare himself for the lad's speech. The man's skin tone was a tanned olive in color, not even close to Reed's albino looks, but the similarities were there as well. They had the same eyes and unique jaw sets. Hair as thick as Reed's sprung up from this guy's head, the only difference being a slight tint different in color.

"Are you by any chance related to Reed Parkinson?" Henry wondered, his eyes traveling back up to connect with the older man's.

Bryan Bartlett audibly gulped, hoping that Henry's enthusiastic demeanor wouldn't ruin everything.

Mr. Torante looked surprised for a moment before a grin stretched across his face, "Why, yes, he's my older sister's boy. How did you come to find him?" The businessman questioned in return, a brief flicker of unease shifting through his silvery gaze before it was replaced by interest.

"He goes to my school," explained Henry in a conversational tone.

"Ah, yes, Smithson High, a fine academy, so Reed tells me," Jeremy Torante commiserated fondly. "He once mentioned a Margaret Winnock to me as well. Are you aware of her?"

The alarm in Henry's head went off dimly as the man brought up Maggie's name. _Why has Reed been talking about Maggie, _he wondered with a touch of worry for the brunette.

Seeing that Jeremy was giving Henry an inquiring glance Bryan answered for the boy, "They're really close friends actually."

"Really, now?" The shrewd businessman lilted as though it were the most fascinating piece of news on the planet.

"Sir," a blonde haired woman stepped into the office, her green orbs widening a little and her cheeks turning a dusty red as she realized she was interrupting something. "Oh, I apologize for intruding."

"Not a problem, Sarah," Jeremy Torante replied neutrally, "What is it?" His eyebrows rose slightly as he waited for the executive's answer.

Sarah bit her lip nervously as she juggled a pile of papers between her arm and her thigh, the fingers of her other hand busy gripping a cup of freshly brewed coffee. The hazelnut scent drifted through the air, infiltrating the office with a delicious aroma. "First of all, your coffee, just the way you asked for it. One droll of milk and two spoonfuls of sugar."

The woman smiled appreciatively at Henry as he grabbed the cup from its precarious position, saving her the embarrassment of spilling the dark liquid all over the freshly vacuumed carpet.

"Its Hazelnut flavoring, am I correct?" Henry found himself asking the young woman, unable to resist the urge.

"Yes, how did you know?" The lady answered, a surprised yet pleased tone to her Southern twang.

"When my parents and I stayed in Paris it was a city wide favorite; I could recognize it easily by the slightly sharp and yet autumn-hinting scent," Henry explained, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

"Very nice, Mr. Griffin," she spoke with a polite smirk, darting a quick glance in the direction of Mr. Torante. Her spine straightened.

"Was there something else you wanted to show me, Sarah, or are you simply content wasting our time," Jeremy snapped crossly.

Sarah's face blanched and it took her a moment to regain composure, her lips a thin, pale line, "Of course, sir. I brought you some of the papers regarding the will and testament of Jasper Marcus Bartlett." Grasping the folders nearly spilling from her arms, the woman handed them to her boss quickly.

Taking a small sip of his coffee, Mr. Torante whisked the papers away from his assistant, a grimace distorting his face, "Miss Voltez, I thought I directly asked for a doll and a half of milk, did I not?"

"I'm sorry sir, would you like me to fix you a fresh cup?" Sarah stuttered, averting her gaze momentarily from her uptight boss.

"Forget it, you'd probably screw that one up too," Jeremy muttered, tossing the remainder of the simmering drink into the closest trash can. The executive winced before forcing a calm, collected mask onto her chiseled face.

"If that's all…" she began hesitantly.

"You are dismissed, get back to work," Mr. Torante waved her off hurriedly, a strange ring on his left hand catching the light for a moment.

"Mr. Torante, sir, not to appear disrespectful," Henry began in a humble yet curious tone, his hazel orbs flashing to the silver forged ring on the man's finger, "but I was wondering where you got that ring?"

The businessman's whole body stiffened into a stick-like pose, all the warmth swept off his face, leaving him surprisingly menacing, "I….I found it, in a tourist shop, down in Venice." He reverted eventually, his fingertips drumming against the table-top's slick surface.

"Oh…" The teenage boy paused, nodding as though he'd just lost interest in the ring matter, "Cool." Inside, the wheels of his brain were churning hyper-actively.

"Well, if you two wouldn't mind getting back to the matter at hand," Jeremy changed the subject, a charismatic smile inching onto his lips. "How old was your son, Mr. Bartlett?"

"Seventeen, why?" questioned Bryan.

"Impressive," complimented the shaggy haired man, crossing his legs into an attentive pattern. "Jasper had, in fact, documented his Last Will and Testament onto a hard-drive nicknamed My Private Diary. This was about six months before his…passing." Jeremy cleared his throat loudly.

"Hm," The father muttered, not comprehending any significance to the date at which the will had been written. That's just how his son was. Organized. A total study freak. Just…Jasper, in the older man's mind.

"That is so Jasper!" Henry exclaimed suddenly, the smile suddenly dimming from his mouth as he recalled the name under which Jasper had saved the document. _He said that he kept a personal diary in there, now why would he lie to me?_

"Is something wrong, Mr. Griffin?" Jeremy questioned with a slight tilt of his head.

"No," Henry insisted, pursing his lips in a terrific impersonation of a sad puppy, "I just miss my cousin."

It was true, for the most part. The blonde haired boy still lived with nightmares about the night of the crash, not that he would ever tell Maggie that. From what he'd seen, she was dealing with similar phenomenon. He needed to be strong for the attractive brunette, no matter what the personal cost to his well being.

Mr. Bartlett placed a hand on his nephew's shoulder, squeezing slightly before removing it. Henry flashed his relative a thankful smile before turning his single-minded focus back to Jeremy Torante.

The businessman was gazing at the two of them suspiciously. When he spotted Henry staring piercingly into his tough gaze he smirked sympathetically at the duo, "I can only imagine what you must have gone through. My humble apologies."

"Apology accepted," Henry replied softly, rubbing his temples to relieve the slight pressure that had built up.

"The police have, of course, taken photos of the entire incident which I'm afraid I cannot grant you access to, but the authorities have agreed to let you skim over their contents. One time only, of course." Jeremy relented smoothly, reaching into the first folder marked _Pics_ to retrieve square snapshots of the crash.

Henry probed over the pictures tantalizingly, mentally throwing out the majority of them that focused on the car itself. The blonde haired cousin was only interested in pictures of Jasper's body. There had to be something to go on in the pile.

But after twenty minutes of fruitlessly glancing over the pictures Henry had drawn up a blank. Jasper's clothes were blood stained and his skin was bruised, but all that was to be expected; other than those discoveries nothing else seemed to pop out.

"Thank you, Mr. Torante," Bryan managed to choke out, brushing away the moisture from his eyes. Henry gave him a gentle half-smile, too in the zone to join in the emotional paradox.

The executive sifted all the snapshots into a neat pile before sliding them back in the folder and placing the manila envelope on the chair directly to his left.

"Jasper's will stated that all his belongings were to be given to his cousin, including his prestigious college fund and soon to be repaired Smart Car." Jeremy annotated stiffly, his gaze gliding over the typed print in front of him.

"Me?" Henry mumbled, shell-shocked. "Did he leave anything for Uncle Bryan?" The teen never expected to be included in his cousin's will, considering how much of a nuisance he'd been ever since arriving. A warm, fuzzy feeling began to expand within his heart; Jasper really had cared for him, after all.

"Ah, yes," The businessman continued in an annoyingly slow, clipped voice, his pointer finger pausing over a certain sentence. "Mr. Bartlett, your son left you a box under his bed, only he didn't specify the contents."

"Good, that's good," Bryan stumbled uneasily, his words still resembling mush.

"Oh, and Henry, Jasper also underlined, apparently making sure that you got this letter," the older man handed over a faded piece of paper, glancing keenly at the teenager as Henry took the note.

"He said it was extremely important and for your eyes only," Jeremy finished darkly, folding his hands almost beseechingly in front of him.

"Uh, thanks," Henry muttered, his fingers tracing the cursive barely visible through the other side of the paper. _Why would Jasper write me a note? He didn't know that he was going to die…did he?_

"I believe that that's about everything," concluded Mr. Torante in a cheerful tone, standing up to shake both of the client's hands. "It was a pleasure discussing this with you both."

Both Bryan and Henry thanked Jeremy as well before exiting into the hallway. Henry's fingers still tightly clutched the letter, making sure that nothing disastrous would occur with it. His alarm was still dimly going off, accelerating his heartbeat and his senses. _There's something more to this than we think. _

Jeremy Torante watched the two men leave, his dark eyes churning with mystery.

* * *

"Are you alright, Henry?" Bryan Bartlett asked his nephew in a shaky tone, gripping the wheel tighter at ten and two as he shifted from _park_ to _drive_.

"I think so," the blonde haired boy answered distractedly, spinning to look at the older gentleman. "I should be asking that about you. Jasper was your son after all." He firmed up, glancing sympathetically up at his uncle's face.

"I've been better," admitted the brown haired male, turning into traffic and speeding through a yellow light. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and he blotted them away fanatically.

Done with the shallow yet heart-warming conversation Henry slowly unfolded the note and began to read it in his head, not wishing to alarm the driver. His eyes quickly began to widen with shock. _I knew it. _

_Henry,_

_I can't say much in here just in case someone else finds this letter, so I'll just write down what I'm trying to say. I know, normally I'm not a letter writer but my damn laptop got stolen by the jocks and I haven't gotten the guts to finagle it back quite yet. _

_Listen, Henry, I know this might sound totally stupid…_

"What you reading there?" Mr. Bartlett inquired, trying to get a small chat going once more, but he quickly discovered that his nephew was back in narrow focus mode.

"A letter that Jasper wrote me," was all that Henry had to say before continuing on with the alarming note.

…_B__ut someone is following me. No, not someone, but a whole group of people. For awhile I just thought that it was the popular kids trying to pull another prank on me, but then things got worse. _

_I'm scared, so I wrote this note, and I guess now I'm just trying to find the courage to give it to you. I'm sorry that I've been such a pig around you. You're actually a pretty cool guy, Griffin. _

_They're trying to kill me, I swear. First there was an axe embedded in a tree just inches from where I was sitting trying to catch up on some last minute studying for a Euro quiz. Then there was the cuts that kept appearing on my skin in the morning, and I couldn't remember where I got them. _

_I don't know who these people are, but if something does happen to me, something horrible, then I know you'll do everything in your power to investigate it. _

_-Jasper._

_June 5, 2010._

Henry's first instinct was to gape and dash out of the car but he regained a collected attitude for his uncle. It made no sense to involve the older man in this incident, no sense at all. But the sensory alarm kept ringing in his head, over and over and over. He had to tell Maggie, immediately.

"Are you sure you're okay, you look like a beached fish," Bryan Bartlett questioned suspiciously, turning into the drive-through of a fast food restaurant.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking about some stuff," Henry answered automatically, inwardly groaning as they crept up the line waiting to order. "Um, where are we, Uncle Bryan?"

"Henry, welcome to the land of the Golden Arches, otherwise known as Mc Donald's," the older man explained, his arm extending in a wide arc just as the person in front of them sped ahead. "You hungry, son?"

"Sure, I guess," The blonde haired youth muttered, too preoccupied with the letter to really understand what was going on.

"Good, because I'm ravenous," rambled Bryan, his stomach grumbling as he spoke. Loosening the knot at the top of his silky blue tie he demanded, "Don't tell Maggie about this or she'll kill us."

* * *

"You got WHAT?" screeched Maggie, crossing her arms as her caramel orbs glared furiously across at her best friend.

"A turbug," answered Henry in a matter of fact tone, taking a huge bite out of the juicy meat. "It's actually quite delicious."

"I think you mean a burger," snapped the attractive brunette, stomping her foot in a typical temper tantrum move. "Do you understand that a helpless animal died in order for you to be able to consume that?" She questioned angrily.

"Yep," he replied cheerfully, his smile sobering, shriveling under the girl's intense gaze.

"You told her, didn't you," sighed Mr. Bartlett as he entered the living room, his eyes sweeping over the scene in front of him. Maggie was leaning intimately close over Henry, her eyes narrowed to little slits and her finger pointing agitatedly as she shouted about the wrongs of meat consumption.

"It was kind of unavoidable once she saw me carrying in a turbug and fries from the Golden Arches." Henry told his uncle regretfully.

"For the last time, it's a burger," Maggie corrected the teenage male underneath her, her anger slowly fading as she connected eyes with Henry. He smiled an apology and she grumbled something incomprehensible, her cheeks flushing as she realized how her whole body was tingling as it rested against his skin.

Meanwhile, Henry was experiencing the same butterflies in his stomach and he had to work to control a blush from sweeping across his cheekbones. Maggie was nothing more than a friend. "I knew that, I was just testing you," he chided jokingly.

"Fine, I believe you," the dark haired girl gave in, unconsciously eyeing Henry as she pulled off of him, allowing him some breathing space. "What was it that you wanted to show me?"

"I'll show you, c'mon," Henry instructed, grasping her tiny hand in his as he pulled her in the direction of the stairs.

"Oh, one second," Bryan called out, causing Maggie to fly into Henry unexpectedly. He caught her immediately and she froze in his arms for a moment before standing on her own two feet.

"Yeah, Uncle Bryan?" The blonde haired boy wondered, realizing that he'd dropped Maggie's hand as she'd tripped and fallen into his arms. His fingers felt cold.

"Maggie, Henry insisted that we get you a yogurt parfait," the older man explained, smiling knowingly as he glanced between the two friends, noting the way that they'd glance shyly in each other's direction once in awhile, their cheeks flushing. Maggie might have liked Jasper way back when but she'd certainly moved on now, and he was grateful for it.

"Oh, thanks," The brunette blurted out, pleasantly surprised. Grinning thankfully at Henry she grabbed the parfait from Mr. Bartlett before heading up the stairs.

The elder man's gaze didn't move from the two teenagers as they made their way into Henry's room, a crinkled smile edging onto his face.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

_**Sorry this chapter was a little shorter than the last, but I want to space them out. Next chapter, Maggie's reaction and the mystery really takes off. I hope you're all enjoying so far and I'm pretty confident that I portrayed Menry fairly well in this installment. **_


	4. Part Three

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

_**Hey everyone, I'm glad you're enjoying this story; I'm finding myself getting more into it as time goes on. This one has a lot of deduction, so I hope you are enthralled. Read along, my fine audience, read along. **_

* * *

"_The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keeps out the joy._" – Jim Rohn

_The word 'happiness' would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. – _Carl Gustav Jung

_Letting go doesn't mean giving up... it means moving on. It is one of the hardest things a person can do. Starting at birth, we grasp on to anything we can get our hands on, and hold on as if we will cease to exist when we let go. We feel that letting go is giving up, quitting, and that as we all know is cowardly. But as we grow older we are forced to change our way of thinking. We are forced to realize that letting go means accepting things that cannot be. It means maturing and moving on, no matter how hard you have to fight yourself to do so. – _Unknown

* * *

**P A R T / T H R E E **

* * *

"Henry, what the HECK is going on?" Maggie Winnock demanded, confused, as the blonde haired teen grasped gently at her upper arm, pulling her faster in the direction of his bedroom.

"I'll explain when we're alone," the boy insisted, tugging her along faster, to her apparent dismay.

"This is something to do with Jasper's death, isn't it?" Maggie questioned sharply as Henry closed his bedroom door slowly, waiting for the quiet click of the lock turning before allowing his shoulders to slump.

"Sit down, I have a lot to explain to you," Henry mumbled, glancing distractedly around the normally spic and span area. The blonde haired youth's side was as neat as usual; Jasper's however, resembled Louisiana after a ferocious tornado hits.

"Not until you tell me if this is about Jasper or not!" Maggie put her foot down, sticking out the pouty lip for extra effect.

"What else would it be about? God, Maggie, you can be just like a crow with a brain defect sometimes!" He snapped before he could filter his sentence. Instantly he regretted it.

Maggie's eyes widened first with shock and then the hurt slammed into her like a brick wall. She fell back on the bed, her lips trembling as she turned towards the window. It wasn't typically in her nature to cry, but damn, it still hurt.

"Mags, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," Henry apologized, a frown twisting his face when his best friend didn't reply. She only turned more towards the window and he swore that he saw her wipe something from just under her eye. And that's when he realized that he'd made her cry.

Big, salty tears squeezed out of the girl's eyes, trailing slowly down her cheeks on the way towards the bedspread. Taking in a deep, shaky breath Maggie turned her blurred vision towards a picture of Henry and Jasper several years ago during the latter's birthday.

A moment later she felt Henry's warm arms weave smoothly around her petite waist, hugging her into his chest. His breath tickled her ear as he mumbled, "I ruined his birthday every single year…and I never apologized."

Maggie nodded, forcing back a joyful smile from bounding onto her face as his fingers began to gently stroke her skin. "Yes, you did."

"I thought that he would have hated me for sure after everything I'd done to him, and yet he forgave me each time," Henry hinted sadly, resting his head on her shoulder.

The brunette could feel her heart hammering in her chest, yet she managed a chilly response, "Is that your way of telling me to forgive you?"

"Possibly," Henry revealed, the smile that she loved so much stretching onto his tanned face. "I'm really sorry, Mags."

"I know," Maggie whispered with a sigh, tears clouding her vision once more, twisting in his arms so that she could relax her head on his shoulder, her lips pressing into the crook of his neck. She swore she felt him shiver at the close contact, but she brushed it off.

Henry hesitated, dropping the confident mask from his face in front of her for the first time in what seemed like forever. He'd always attempted to remain strong for her, no matter how broken up he was inside. "Sometimes…I still get nightmares about the crash," he admitted hoarsely.

"Me too, all the time," she echoed him quietly, burrowing closer into his embrace. "They leave me screaming and crying…I wish I could have saved him, Henry." A tear slipped from her left cheek onto his shirt, staining the fabric.

"We all do, but we can't blame ourselves for his death," the blonde haired teen extrapolated slowly.

"You're right," Maggie admitted despondently, pulling out of Henry's grasp reluctantly, the choice taking it back into comfortable territory. Sniffling and brushing the remainder of the tears from her chocolate gaze the brunette glanced towards the desk. "Now what was it you wanted to show me?"

Henry frowned but accepted the change in position, understanding that his friend needed a moment to compose herself. Girls detested it if you brought up the fact that they looked horrible, so he'd learned quickly. "The man we met with gave me this letter Jasper addressed to me six months ago and there's something alarming about it."

"How so?" Maggie questioned in her basically normal tone, the reddened skin under her shimmering orbs the only indication she'd been crying.

"The most basic proof – Jasper wrote it bluntly," Henry responded as he traced the bedroom once more, the faded paper now in his hands. After handing it to his best friend he leaned back against the dresser, waiting for her to read it.

Maggie's expression went from vague interest to shell-shocked in a matter of moments, her skin paling drastically, "My God, how could we not have been aware of this?"

"Simple, Jasper must have been threatened, or else he probably would have disclosed this immediately," The blonde haired male concluded quickly.

"This just complicates things. I mean, Jasper gets in a fatal car accident and just several weeks later we discover that he'd been getting harassed and near murdered on several occasions." Maggie fretted, pacing back and forth beside the bed, her stormy gaze zeroed in on the carpet.

"I know, and wait until you hear the rest of the story," Henry told her seriously, pulling up the desk chair and grabbing Jasper's laptop in the same motion. The brunette shadowed him closely, propping herself up against the edge of the desk as her best friend turned on the computer.

"What does Jasper's laptop have to do with anything?" She asked, totally bemused.

"When Uncle Bryan and I were chatting with the executive at the office, he told me that Jasper had written his will a number of months ago," Henry began, frowning as he reached a password block. A moment later, however, he broke through it.

"So? That's something Jasper would do," Maggie responded, her eyes doing a brief 360.

"Yes, I agree, but something Mr. Torante said caught my attention. Jasper saved the will under a file that he named My Diary." Henry told her, waiting for her analytical response.

"Okay, a bit strange…where are you going with this, Henry?" Maggie asked him exasperatedly.

"Jasper told me that he saved his private diary under that file and that he was printing it off on a hard-drive. He lied to me, and I wasn't sure why, until now. I think." The male teenager finished, eyeing a row of DVD's on a filing system keenly.

"You think that Jasper might have written something for our eyes only on that hard-drive that he hid and left a meaningless dead-end for the authorities to discover." Maggie stated with a slightly disbelieving gaze.

"Exactly," Henry nodded, getting out of the desk chair so that he could comb the shelves for the disk. "I just don't know where he would have hidden it."

"Give me that letter again…" the brunette extended her hand beseechingly, her eyebrows quirked upwards.

"Why?" Henry wondered, giving her the folded slip of paper.

"I think Jasper left us a clue in the letter," Maggie delivered bluntly, her sharp gaze reading over the slanted print.

A moment later, she paused, "Try looking for a file either on the laptop or in the hard-version stacks named _JUNE."_

Henry did, for a result of absolutely nothing. "Keep looking," he suggested, smiling supportively while inside he was wracking his brain for any possible clue his cousin could have left them.

"Maybe _EURO_?" Maggie suggested with a brief lilt of her shoulders. "I don't know."

Again, there was nothing, and the clock chimed six pm in the corner. There came a rap on the door and both teenagers froze in progress, nearly flipping out with momentary panic.

"Maggie, would you like to stay over for dinner?" Bryan Bartlett asked, his voice slightly muffled through the wood. "I'm fixing a nice bean and spinach salad that I think you might enjoy."

"Uh…" the girl paused, smirking as she noted Henry waggling his head rapidly up and down. "Sure, thanks Mr. Bartlett."

"No problem, it should be ready in about fifteen minutes," the older man pointed out before thumping noisily down the stairs.

"Why did you want me to stay for dinner?" Maggie questioned her best friend, turning back to the letter as she combed it for nothing in particular. Her brain was starting to feel like mush.

"Because, we need to figure this out. Do you mind spending the night, only if it's alright with your parents, of course?" Henry pondered, the tips of his ears burning.

"My parents are away on a government political retreat," Maggie explained, biting her lip as the blonde shot her a concerned glance. The main reason she hadn't earlier disclosed this information was because she knew Henry would flip out; she was perfectly fine on her own, but spending the night here sounded a lot more appetizing.

Sure enough, Henry's lips pursed in a disapproving expression, "You shouldn't be living at home alone. Just stay here until your parents come back," he suggested.

"No thanks, tonight will be good," Maggie declined reluctantly, knowing that spending more than one night in the same house as Henry Griffin would most likely send her imagination rocketing, and that _wasn't_ a good investment.

* * *

"That was really good, Mr. Bartlett," Maggie complimented sweetly as she carried her empty plate over to the sink. "Thanks for letting me crash here tonight."

"It's no problem at all, Maggie," Bryan insisted, flashing the duo a warning smile before heading into his office.

Henry turned on the sink, washing off both his and the brunette's plate as she rubbed her forehead and released a reluctant yawn. "You're exhausted. Have you been sleeping enough?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

"No, the nightmares keep me awake most of the night," Maggie admitted softly, brushing back a few renegade strands of her hair. She smiled weakly in the blonde's direction as he shot her another worried glance.

"Well, you'll be safe here tonight," Henry pointed out quietly, emotion glinting in his hazel orbs.

"Yeah," she mumbled, a red flush creeping up her jaw-line. "We'd better get back upstairs and figure out what Jasper could have left us before I faint." She joked.

"I could make you some coffee," he offered nicely, already heading towards the empty pot on the counter.

"No thanks, coffee just makes me jittery and nobody wants to see that," Maggie told him, a smirk playing on her lips. "But I could go for a Pepsi."

"Pepsi it is, Madame," Henry mock-bowed, a chuckle emitting from his chest, before reaching into the nearest cabinet and extracting two finely sculpted glasses.

"How…empathetic of you sir," the brunette commented with a regal toss of her raggedy tresses. "And why do we need glasses when we can just drink straight out of the can?" She asked, secretly waiting and hoping he'd answer correctly.

"Because, M'lady, you have always preferred to drink your Pepsi out of an ice-filled glass," Henry played along in his squire position, opening one of the cans of bubbly soda with a quick twist.

"Correct," Maggie applauded, shaking her head as laughter spilled from her mouth. "Can we quit the regal obsession now?"

"Sure," he agreed, laughing along with her as he poured the contents of the first can into a sparkling glass. He watched cautiously as the bubbles fizzed up to the very edges of the container before fading back down just in time.

Maggie waited until he'd poured both of their drinks before snatching hers from his clinched hand, "Thanks, Henry."

"No problem," he replied immediately, shifting his glass from his left hand to his dominant side. "Now let's go."

* * *

"Did you find anything yet?" Maggie moaned, forcing her eyelids to spring open once more. Fatigue was quickly draining her of brain power and now all she could think about was curling up on Jasper's bed and falling fast asleep. That is, until the nightmares came later.

Being the gentleman he was, Henry had agreed to take the hammock, and for that she was glad. She really didn't want to crash on the cold ground, not when thick covers and plump pillows awaited and Henry's preference of a swinging hammock seemed rather risque.

The clock on the wall chimed midnight just as the blonde haired boy muttered, "No, it's like there's nothing to find." His tone sounded discouraged.

"We're just not looking in the right places," Maggie comforted him gently, forcing herself to sit up, though every muscle in her body protested.

And that's when she thought of it. "Wait!" She gasped, grabbing the letter from the nightstand and scanning an assortment of letters quickly. "I've got it!"

"What?" Henry wondered curiously, seating himself next to her on the bed. She shivered as his leg brushed hers.

"Do you remember there being a huge panic about a gang in the news several months ago?" Maggie asked him seriously, her gaze shooting around the room as Henry shook his head, confused. _Jasper has to have a copy of the article in here somewhere. _

"Where can we find an extra copy of the newspaper?" She mumbled, biting her nail in a nervous habit.

"I'm sure Uncle Bryan has it," Henry exclaimed, grasping Maggie's hand as he shot off the bed, taking her with him. They crossed the hall, their voices fading to whispers. "He always collects the newspapers and re-reads them. It's one of his many hobbies." He told her.

When they finally reached Mr. Bartlett's office the blonde haired male knocked, to no answer. "He must have gone up to his bedroom," the boy determined, traipsing hurriedly across the hallway.

Maggie shrunk behind Henry as he rapped smartly on his uncle's bedroom door, an embarrassed flush suffusing her cheeks. "Um, can I wait in your room?" She inquired suddenly.

"Why?" Henry turned to shoot her a bemused glance.

"Um…I'd rather not see your uncle in a scarce amount of clothing," the brunette explained hastily, blushing more furiously by the moment. Henry's eyes widened a second later as he understood.

"Yeah, I'll be back in there in just a moment." He ruffled her hair fondly before allowing her to slink off.

Bryan's door opened a moment later as the older man appeared, rubbing his eyes drowsily. He was clad in nothing but a pair of plaid boxers and a sky blue robe; his gaze was bloodshot and drooping more by the second. "What is it, Henry?" He mumbled sleepily, rubbing the corners of his eyes.

"Do you have a newspaper published around six to seven months ago about a huge gang panic?" Henry asked the man curiously.

"Why do you…you should both be asleep…" Bryan scolded with a slight shake of his pointer finger.

"Please, Uncle Bryan, it's really important. Just trust me on this," the blonde teenager pleaded thickly, shifting his footing as more time elapsed.

Even though it was a Friday night and they had the rest of the weekend to work on the mystery the boy still felt a sense of imminent urgency.

"One second, Henry." The door swung shut, throwing the hallway into dark shadows. The fuzzy headed male leaned against the railing as he waited for his uncle to appear back with the article. More time passed.

Finally Bryan Bartlett appeared again, clutching a slightly ripped edition of the Times. "Here, now stop bothering me and please just go to bed, Henry." The elder man pleaded in a mutter before collapsing back onto his bed.

"Goodnight," Henry called out as he took the article in his strong grasp before heading back into his room.

"There you are," Maggie commented with a relieved sigh. Somehow her mind had started concocting scenarios in which her best friend was stabbed or shot in the dark of the hallway, disturbing scenes that left her shuddering. When had she become so soft towards the hard-headed boy?

"You got the article, I presume," she noted, her head jutting in the obvious direction of the newspaper. Henry nodded before seating himself at the desk again, the brunette joining him a minute later.

"So this is the gang that got everybody panicking?" Henry inquired, pointing at the dull picture of several masked figures.

"They called themselves the Hilabiti, an organization supposedly founded to mimic Hitler's drastic measurements of force and massacre against the Jews. Except the Hilabiti strike not just Jews, but everyone. There is no racial, ethical, or gender preferences in their slaughter patterns, although they have been known to go after close knit groups at the same time." Maggie defined primly, a frown distorting her face.

"Go on," Henry encouraged, giving her hand a quick squeeze before turning his attention back to the article. "_Authorities say that the deaths seem to be connected by several similar phenomenons. First, an axe-head buried in a tree and then cuts lacing the target's skin. The final operation of death varies based on the victim,_"He read articulately, his skin paling with each word on the page that his tongue pronounced.

"See?" Maggie pointed out. "Jasper wrote about these exact incidents in the letter. Now look at this."

The brunette's finger traced over the first letter of each line of Jasper's written script, "There are several words on the beginning of each paragraph that shouldn't have been capitalized and yet they were. Coincidence, I think not." Printing the specific letters in bold on another piece of fresh paper the duo stepped back and nearly gasped.

**H – I – L – A – B – I – T – I**

"You were right," Henry breathed, shock lancing through his system and sending jolts of adrenaline rushing through his bloodstream. "So we have to search for Hilabiti?"

"No," Maggie corrected him firmly. "The authorities would have known about the Hilabiti and it would have been stupid if Jasper had saved it under that cult name. So he hid it in the simplest place possible." She circled three of the letters and showed them to Henry.

**L – A – B**

"The investigators probably would have passed over his homework," Henry admitted excitedly, his fingers flicking through the files in the corner until he found the one he was looking for.

"Here it is," he whispered in disbelief, holding a DVD case up to the light, the name _Hilabiti_ clearly engraved on a plastic slip just off-center on the container.

"Put it in the laptop," Maggie attested, gripping the edge of the desk tightly as the boy did what she said. The disk began loading and a moment later the computer began humming. Then, a password box popped up.

"This must have been extremely important if Jasper blocked it with a password," the brunette pointed out.

"Jasper put passwords on all of these, but it had to be something he knew we'd break. He knew we'd be investigating this." Henry mumbled, trying out a combination that failed.

After several denied attempts, it clicked. "Could it really be that simple?" He whispered, his mind flashing back to the evening when Jasper had been loading this very disk off his computer.

The light flashed green, giving them full access to the file.

"What was the password?" Maggie asked him, scooting a little closer to the monitor as it began loading the surprisingly tiny file.

"My Diary," Henry told her matter-of-factly.

"Of course," she mumbled, slapping her knee and then jumping as Henry let out a sharp exclamation at the symbol. "What?" She cried.

"Do you recognize that symbol?" The blonde teenager asked her solemnly, his wavering finger pointing to the image on the screen. The only decoration on the page was the drawing of Hitler's revered and feared German sign. It resembled a windmill, except the edges were crooked perpendicular to the rounded center.

"My God," Maggie whispered, covering her mouth with the palm of her hand. "First Hitler's symbol and now used by the _Hilabiti_. Do you know what this means?" She hissed, tears budding in the corners of her fierce gaze.

"Jasper's death wasn't an accident," Henry concluded darkly, covering his face in his hands for a moment as the truth sunk in.

Tears began rolling down Maggie's cheeks, no matter how much she strained to keep them hidden inside. The simple thought of someone hating Jasper so much was…sickening. She fought back the instinct to puke into the toilet; she could survive this shocking news, no matter how much it threatened to tear her apart.

And this was just Jasper, she reflected, the boy who was always like a brother to her. If she was correct in thinking, then the _Hilabiti _were coming after Henry and her next. If she lost Henry…the thought nearly sucked her into a black hole, the desperation nearly tangible between her shaking fingertips.

Henry hugged her into his body and she sobbed for what felt like hours, although in reality it was only about twenty minutes. "We're next," she managed to blubber.

"I know," he answered, not bothering to try and cover it up with lies. Maggie already knew, and it was shredding her into tiny pieces. "But I won't let them get you."

Finally, she managed to get the damn treacherous tears back into place and, sniffling, she gazed up into Henry's tortured gaze, "I'm so sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" He asked, clearly out-of-it.

"I'm staining your shirt with my tears," Maggie pointed out with a choked laugh at his twisted expression.

"Does it look like I care?" Henry answered her softly, smoothing her damp brunette locks back from her forehead before placing a gentle kiss there. It was just a friendly kiss, like one on the cheek, she attempted to convince her bounding heart.

"Can we go to sleep now?" She wondered, another yawn escaping her pursed lips. The last of her tears drained sluggishly down her cheeks and Henry wiped them all away before leading her over to his bed.

"Do you have anything to change into?" He asked her and she shook her head 'no.'

"You can borrow something of mine," he offered and reluctantly, she accepted the gesture of kindness.

After waiting for her best friend to leave the room she sifted through his drawers before finally deciding on a long t-shirt that fell to below her knees. The word _Billibong _was stitched into the front and slight stripes decorated the hem.

After crawling into the covers she called out, "Come on in."

Henry entered the room again. "I'll go change in the bathroom," he told her and she accepted the fact that he needed his privacy. It only took a couple minutes for him to drift back in, wearing nothing but boxer shorts.

"Hey Henry," she whispered as he flicked off the night and closed the laptop, throwing the room into complete darkness.

"Yeah?" He inquired in lightly muffled tone. She heard shifting noises from the floor and figured that he was settling in.

"Would…would you mind sleeping in the bed with me?" She asked him, her voice wavering with mixed fear and embarrassment. "I'm afraid of the nightmares coming back and...it's Jasper's bed, and..." Her breath caught in her throat.

There was a long pause and Maggie felt tears of rejection slithering down her face. "I'm sorry," she muttered, mortified, "I shouldn't have asked."

"What are you talking about?" He questioned and only then did she notice that he was sliding the covers on the other side of the bed aside. Clambering in, he faced her, his hazel orbs shining brilliantly in the moonlight.

As he spotted her tears his fingertips quickly reached out to stroke them away.

"Don't cry." His voice was like velvet as he crushed her against his bare torso. Although the circumstances should have felt totally uncomfortable Maggie felt more secure than she had in a long time.

Weaving her arms around Henry's waist the brunette met his warm gaze. "Thanks, Henry, you're the best friend I could ever ask for." Snuggling closer to him, Maggie allowed her eyelids to flutter closed.

Sleep overtook the exhausted duo instantly.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

_**Hey everyone, I hope that wasn't too mushy. It took me awhile to figure out how I wanted to plan this but I'm excited at how it turned out. **_

_**By the way, the Hilabiti are not an actual gang; I made them up and I own them entirely. **_


	5. Part Four

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

_**Hey guys, I hope that you enjoyed the last chapter. This one contains more mystery and deduction and a sprinkle of romance, so I do pray you love it. Oh, and if you're confused about the messages in your email inbox saying that I'm uploading a ton of chapters, ignore it. Every time I make a correction I have to export the chapter, fix it, delete the old chapter and put the new one in place. **_

* * *

_We learn more by looking for the answer to a question and not __finding__ it than we do from learning the answer itself.__ – _Lloyd Alexander

_The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don't know anything about. – _Wayne Dyer

* * *

**P A R T / F O U R **

Henry Griffin's eyes slowly opened, the blurry abyss of his dreams slowly washing away to be replaced by sharp, intuitive glances.

His mind was still a little shell-shocked over everything that had transpired yesterday, from flipping what Maggie still insisted on calling pancakes in the kitchen to the meeting over Jasper's will with Mr. Torante, and finally, to the moment when they'd discovered that his cousin's death, was in fact, a murder.

_Do you know what this means? _He could still hear Maggie's words in his mind as they dully repeated, like a broken record.

_Jasper's death wasn't an accident, _he'd replied last night to the attractive brunette, watching regretfully as her face crumpled and the tears began streaking down her face.

Henry still hadn't managed to tell her that he had a good idea who Jasper's assassin was; Maggie had been enough of a wreck with the discovery and he hadn't had the heart to destroy her even more.

The thought of Jeremy Torante sent Henry into a dizzy tail-spin and he had to grit his teeth, resisting the urge to rip the head off something. How could the man order Jasper's death and then act all nonchalant about it a few weeks later?

Maggie mumbled something in her sleep and shifted closer to him, her fingers unconsciously skimming over the skin of his bare chest. Glancing down affectionately at the brunette, Henry allowed his lips to press against her hair, his nostrils inhaling her mesmerizing scent.

Before knowing Maggie he'd never met a girl who had smelled as delightful as this one. Maybe it was just a package deal with his new, tender feelings for his best friend, because now whenever he got too close to her he smelled lilac and jasmine, a tantalizing combination.

"Henry," Maggie whispered slowly, her eyes still shut tight, but a sweet smile spread across her face. She really didn't have any idea how beautiful she looked when she was sleeping, he noted, resisting the urge to kiss the slumbering young woman directly on her plump, pink lips.

Several minutes passed in which Henry patiently waited for his best friend to wake up, his fingertips dancing across her back to give her a nice wake up massage. And then, she twitched, a grimace distorting her facial features as she stretched her arms, pulling slightly away from him.

"Good morning," Henry whispered softly as the brunette eyelids dragged over the reddened skin under her dancing chocolate orbs, her sleepy gaze connecting with him a second later.

"Morning," she answered with a tight groan, shifting so that she could straighten her cramping muscles. "How long have you been up?"

"Only for a few minutes," he reassured her, smiling as a blush suffused her cheeks.

Maggie's lips pursed as she studied the claw marks around his neck and chest; they weren't deep but they probably stung, she guessed. "Did I scratch you?" She wondered guiltily.

"It's alright," he responded automatically, so used to hiding any sort of pain he'd go through to spare her feelings.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, tracing the shallow wounds. A moment later her right leg brushed up against his and she jumped, a spark running through her whole body.

"Are you alright, I mean, after last night…" Henry questioned quietly, straightening up into a sitting position so that he could glance around the bedroom. His hammock sat motionless in the far corner; it was strange to see it from this perspective, considering he normally slept in it.

"I'm improved, thanks," Maggie answered after a small pause, her gaze following his slightly distracted one. When she spotted the hammock her eyes widened a little and shot back to Henry. "Did you sleep okay? I know you prefer the hammock." She hinted, brushing the covers aside as she prepared to hunt down her clothes for the day.

"I slept way better tonight than I have in weeks, actually," Henry replied truthfully, watching as she reached for her wrinkled shorts lying on a heap in the middle of the floor. His t-shirt that she was wearing rode up a little, exposing the edge of her pure white panties and he glanced away, blushing at the intrusive sight.

Pulling on the shorts Maggie studied her reflection in the closest mirror, a frown permeating her earlier contentment, "I look awful."

"Don't criticize your appearance," Henry chided thoughtfully. "You look fine."

"Just fine?" The brunette snapped, pretending to be offended.

Henry paused and began to search for an appropriate word as he saw he'd pissed her off, "I mean…uh…good…no, nice…um…"

"I'm kidding, Henry," Maggie comforted her now flustered best friend, a chuckle escaping from her mouth.

"Oh, I knew that," the blonde haired teenager replied in a mumble, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

"Sure you did," the young woman responded mock-seriously, turning back towards the mirror to check her reflection once more. "Hey, would you mind driving me home so I can grab a change of clothes?"

"I don't see why not," Henry relented as he dragged on a pair of sweatpants, his hands attempting to straighten his mussed locks. Maggie enjoyed the sight of his bare chest for a moment more before he pulled on a faded brown t-shirt, working out the few wrinkles on the cotton fabric.

"Good, now leave so I can finish changing," the brunette shooed him off playfully, a joyful smirk playing on her lips.

* * *

When Maggie stepped out ten minutes later the hallway was deserted but the recesses of music spilled from the kitchen up to the landing. She felt like laughing as she heard a tenor voice that sounded like Henry singing along to Airplanes by B.O.B featuring Hayley Williams and Eminem.

Figuring that she may as well check it out, the brunette walked down the stairs, her happiness tempered for a moment as she spotted a picture of Jasper and Henry fishing together hanging from the right wall. "Oh, Jas," she mumbled sadly, touching the portrait for a moment before continuing along.

"Can we pretend that airplanes, in the night sky, are like shooting stars," Henry was singing boisterously as he prepared a fancy cheese omelet on the stove for us both.

Maggie pressed herself against the wall, content to watch her best friend rock out as he cooked for a moment.

"I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, right now," the blonde headed teenager trilled in a falsetto pitch and finally Maggie cracked up, peeling off the painted wall as she joined her best friend in the kitchen.

"That was some singing," she teased, poking him in the ribcage and quickly the boy flipped off the song, his face turning beet red.

"You were spying on my pitiful singing skills?" Henry inquired, his caramel orbs glinting with mirth.

The dark haired beauty sobered, "You're not a horrible singer. Actually, you're pretty…decent." She admitted.

"Hm, let's check my rapping skills then," he responded, turning up the tunes again and clearing his throat.

"I could use a dream or a genie or a wish  
To go back to a place much simpler than this  
Cause after all the partyin' and smashin' and crashin'  
And all the glitz and the glam and the fashion  
And all the pandemonium and all the madness  
There comes a time where you fade to the blackness  
And when you're staring at that phone in your lap  
And you hoping but them people never call you back  
But that's just how the story unfolds  
You get another hand soon after you fold  
And when your plans unravel  
And they sayin' what would you wish for  
If you had one chance  
So airplane airplane sorry I'm late  
I'm on my way so don't close that gate  
If I don't make that then I'll switch my flight  
And I'll be right back at it by the end of the night!"

The tone of Henry's voice was reduced to a croak as he attempted to keep up with Eminem's rapid speed-talking and finally he just gave up, panting for breath, "I don't think that's in my future," he grimaced, laughing through gasps.

"No, I predict not," Maggie joined in, glancing once more at the picture of Jasper and Henry before seating herself on one of the intricately backed chairs.

"You hungry?" The boy asked her as he divided the omelet onto two plates. His uncle had grabbed a donut from the pantry about a half-hour ago, apparently, and now he was getting ready in his room.

"A little, I guess," she shrugged, taking the plate that Henry offered her, followed by a cup of chocolate milk. "Thanks."

"It's not a bother at all," her best friend insisted sweetly, pouring a cup of straight 1% milk for himself. Taking a sip of the frothy drink Henry turned to face Maggie, only to meet her attempted nonchalant expression, which only meant she was trying to hide something.

"Milk mustache," the brunette motioned to his upper lip and he hurriedly wiped away the residue with his sleeve.

"Ugh, use a napkin," Maggie winced, taking another small bite of the omelet and swallowing the delicious food.

"Are you alright?" Henry questioned her as she bit her lower lip, another indication that the brunette was attempting to deal with something way over her head.

"Henry, I have to tell you something," Maggie told him, her jaw trembling with the effort it took to spit those words out. What his expression would be after she revealed the truth she had absolutely no clue. "I…I lied, about my parents."

"What are you talking about?" The male questioned with a frown, leaning against the counter as he took a generous bite of omelet.

Maggie's fingers dug into the stained brown wood of the chair, her nails gouging little chunks out. "My parents aren't away on a political retreat. My mom was at home yesterday, early in the morning; I'd woken up from a nightmare and she comforted me." The girl's skin blanched.

"And then, when you were there to fix me breakfast they were just…gone. I couldn't find them anywhere, but I just assumed they'd driven off to a meeting or something." The brunette's chocolate pools grew misty with tears. "But their cars were still sitting in the driveway."

"I think something horrible happened to my parents, Henry," Maggie concluded with a choked sigh, her fingers trembling as she laced them on the vintage countertop. "I just have this feeling…"

"Mags, why did you lie to me?" Henry inquired in a hurt tone as he carefully placed both of their plates in the sink, running the faucet so that his uncle couldn't eavesdrop on their private conversation.

"I don't know, I guess I just thought that you had enough to deal with, considering the whole Jasper incident," the young woman admitted hesitantly, toying with the waistline of her wrinkled shirt and wincing as the material's pungent odor made her gag.

"Henry, what if something did happen to my parents?" Maggie asked him, leaning against the countertop close enough so that her legs were brushing his. Her lips trembled with worry for the man and woman who'd shaped who she was today.

"We'll figure something out," Henry told her gently, his fingers brushing over her arm for a moment before retreating.

"That's what you always say, and –" The brunette was cut off from her hyperventilation as Henry interjected.

"You promised the night we were trapped in the museum that you wouldn't allow your fears to overpower your emotions," The blonde haired teen reminisced, tilting his head to the side as his hazel orbs probed the girl in front of him.

"Right, sorry," Maggie muttered under her breath, her breath hitching in her throat at the memory of that night. The trio had quickly discovered that a supposed security update was in fact a robbery; only a few minutes later Jasper had been kidnapped, leaving the other two to catch the perpetrators.

At one point in their search Maggie had been freaking out and Henry had calmed her down by telling her just the right words of reassurance. The passion in his words that night…they sent startling chills through her every time she thought about it.

"Have I ever let you down?" Henry questioned her softly, his gaze connecting with hers, the intimacy in his intense stare so powerful that she nearly collapsed on the ground.

"No," she admitted reluctantly, crossing her arms in a defensive maneuver.

"Then trust me now. Let's go." Grabbing the keys to his uncle's car Henry dashed out the front door, Maggie tailing not far behind.

"I hate it when you're right," the brunette mumbled harshly, not really meaning the words, as she opening the passenger door on the right side and slid into the vehicle.

Henry clambered in not a moment later, his hand brushing briefly against hers as the young man situated himself. Once checking the mirrors and sliding the key into the ignition, they were off, "But I'm always right," he pointed out, glancing uneasily in her direction.

"Exactly," Maggie snapped, turning her face towards the window so the male in the car couldn't see her smile. "Wait, how do you know how to get to my house? You've never been there."

"Oh, that's easy. I'm following the scent of your lilac-jasmine perfume, a rather simple trail to follow considering that you've walked over here so many times." Henry implied, glancing wonderingly in the brunette's direction; her face was pressed towards the window, however, so he couldn't see her expression.

"Which brings me to this point: Why didn't we just walk?" Maggie pondered with a roll of her shimmering orbs. "I only live, like, five minutes away by foot."

"I wanted to see Uncle Bryan's expression when we return his borrowed vehicle," the blonde haired boy mumbled sheepishly, a grin working onto his lips. His mirthful gaze flickered back to the road.

"Wow, folks, Henry Griffin actually just had a regular teen moment," the young woman replied sarcastically, a little snort slipping through her nostrils.

The car came to a nice halt at a nearly deserted four-way stop sign a moment later and Henry patiently waited for a beat up BMW to go before he turned onto Maggie's street.

"You never did tell me why you were scared to drive at first," the brunette remarked with a small lilt of her shoulders.

"I was not scared," Henry denied, a flush creeping up his neck and cheeks. Forcing his gaze back to the road the blonde began to smoothly navigate the surprisingly long and twisty residential street.

"What would you call your utter distress at the matter, then?" Maggie pushed, nudging his shoulder when he didn't reply at first.

"When I was young I wrecked my parent's safari van and a bunch of priceless documents. It was totally by accident, but I still felt incredibly guilty." The young man explained bashfully.

"Oh, wow," the brunette gaped for a second before reining in her surprise. "How did you get rid of the guilt?"

"I told my parents, and they were disappointed, sure, but I felt so much better afterword. Ever since I've had no difficulties driving," Henry spoke clearly, stopping at her house.

Immediately, Maggie's face paled.

The front door had been bashed in and the remains of the four-paned furniture was splintered and cracked. Glass spread over the veranda, the tiny shards shining in the bright sunlight. The garden looked as if it had been trampled, flower petals drooping in random places on the ground. The lawn was torn up, gouges stretching from one end of the bright green grass to the other, seeming to drain the nutrients from the seeded earth.

"No!" The girl yelped, dashing out of the car, her feet pounding against the concrete sidewalk as she rushed towards the jagged remains of the front door.

"Maggie, you can't just run in there!" Henry yelled as he jumped out of the vehicle, pelting after his best friend.

Just then the brunette squeezed through the door, cutting her wrist as she did so, the surprisingly deep wound stinging horribly as she slowed her pace. Quick, nervous glances around the room revealed more smashed furniture and the acrid smell of fire; the scent made her eyes water with remorse over the memory of Jasper's death, but she forced the memory away as she made a startling connection.

Her house was on fire.

Flames licked greedily across the carpeted floor, climbing up the poorly painted walls while it hissed ominously. Dark fumes surrounded the brunette until she was coughing and gasping for any air that could possibly enter her slowly flattening lungs.

Maggie could hear Henry banging at the remains of the front door in valiant efforts to break through but she ignored him as a muffled thump echoed from upstairs. Someone was in her house.

Plugging her nose the brunette slowly made her way up the stairs, holding back a shriek as a piece of burning drywall fell from the smoldering ceiling, landing with a crash on the staircase just behind her.

As Maggie reached her room the tears filled her chocolate orbs; the door had been kicked open, the imprint of a boot clearly visible on the wood, and the contents beyond were totally trashed. Clothes were flung carelessly about, the dresser was tipped over and her bed was in flames.

But the one thing that transfixed her more than anything else was the man dressed entirely in black by the half-open window, a cruel smirk on his clean-shaven face. When he saw her the intruder's silver eyes widened and his hand stretched slightly behind him, the fingers caressing the barrel of an old-fashioned shot-gun.

"Please, no," Maggie breathed, covering her face in her hands and bowing over as the guy loaded the gun, pointing it right at her exposed heart.

And then, a shadow flew over her body and one foot landed squarely on the floor while the other kicked the gun from the shocked intruder's hand. The weapon shattered the glass in the window as it continued its lofty descent to the dead grass below.

"Don't…TOUCH HER!" Henry snarled, pacing in the general direction of the man, his hazel orbs alit with rage and passion that Maggie didn't often see.

"We'll see about that, Griffin," the intruder hissed, a fist shooting out and connecting with Henry's cheek. The latter winced, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he shot a punch to the former's groin.

The fight continued, both parties skillfully dodging various attacks until finally Henry gained the upper hand, thrusting the man through the window with absolutely no hesitancy. You could make out the screams of the murderer as he fell, landing on the thorn-bushes with a muffled cuss word.

Maggie found herself frozen on the ground, too frightened to do anything but just stare at her best friend. He was alive, he was okay, she attempted relieving herself, but a dull ache resonated through her body still.

Henry turned in Maggie's direction, his suddenly tender gaze connecting with the traumatized brunette. Before she could make a complaint he'd scooped her up in his arms, grimacing as he felt how much she was shivering.

"My…laptop," Maggie managed to croak just as the blonde was about to leave the room and he grabbed it, placing it gently in her lap. She rested her head on his chest, her eyelids fluttering closed as she sank closer to unconsciousness, the blessed relief from all the pain.

"Mags, hold on, please open your eyes,' Henry found himself begging as he navigated towards the stairs, jumping back as another beam crashed just in front of them, sparks jumping and connecting with the wall simply inches from the duo's faces. There had to be some way out of here, he rationalized desperately, but what?

The window!

Rushing back into Maggie's room the male teen turned towards the four paned opening before him, trying to figure out how to get them out of here without seriously hurting the girl in his arms. Maybe they would just have to jump, he concluded as the flames reared up in the doorway, blocking any other escape route.

And then, just as he was about to jump, his heart gave a strange lurch. The intruder wasn't lying in the bushes below them, but two other forms were. Two blackened, nearly unrecognizable forms with blood seeping from their chest cavity. Maggie's parents.

"Mags, c'mon, wake up," Henry pleaded, grabbing a sheet that had fallen to the floor by his feet. After wrapping it around Maggie he let out a deep breath and, with a tiny pause, jumped.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

_**So I figured I'd end it there to create a little suspense. Were you surprised at something this graphic, hmmm? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this and I'll try to post again soon. **_

_**By the way, did you see the newest Unnatural History episode: Maximum Insecurity? The Menry parts were SO CUTE! I found myself inwardly jumping with joy at every intimate scene. For those who haven't seen it, WATCH IT! Alright, I'm done now. Later!**_


	6. Part Five

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

_If you raise your children to feel that they can accomplish any goal or task they decide upon, you will have succeeded as a parent and you will have given your children the greatest of all blessings.__ – _Brian Tracy

_But behavior in the human being is sometimes a defense, a way of concealing motives and thoughts, as language can be a way of __hiding__ your thoughts and preventing communication__. – _Abraham Maslow

_Love makes your soul crawl out from its __hiding__ place.__ – _Unknown

* * *

**P ****A R T / F I V E **

* * *

Three days later found Maggie Winnock curled up on the loveseat in the Bartlett's living room, her head leaning despondently against the slightly dirty glass. Tears fought to explode from her caramel orbs but the young woman contained them, determined not to allow any of the discriminating droplets escape. She had to be strong, no matter what the circumstances.

The fact of the matter was, the brunette felt entirely alone. Her memories from the fire in her residence were faded and faulty, missing critical pieces of the puzzle. She could vaguely recall the acrid billows of smoke nearly dragging her under as she fought up the stairs, could envision the barrel of the gun as the intruder pointed it right at her.

Henry had filled in what he could and from what she gathered after she'd fainted he'd jumped out of the window with her in his arms, saving both their lives. Just moments after their rather risky escape her home had blown into smithereens, the flames having already devoured all of the Winnock's possessions.

A surge of pain nearly unbalanced the hormonal teenager as she brought to mind the phone call from a certain Dr. Mendez two days prior.

Her father was dead, murdered with a shining dagger in the heart. After the paramedics and surgeons had finished the routine autopsy of Mr. Winnock they'd phoned none other than his eighteen year old daughter with the news.

The neighbors had spotted a black van parking in her driveway that very morning. A man dressed totally in dark prints had broken down their front door while his two accomplices had busied themselves ruining the garden and lawn out front. Just moments later, according to a batty old lady who lived across the street, muffled yells had echoed from the Winnock residence and two bodies were thrown out of the side, second-story window. After lighting the fire, the men had climbed in the car and disappeared and twenty minutes later Henry and Maggie had driven up.

However impossible it seemed, Maggie's mother, Michelle, had survived multiple stab wounds and broken bones, not to mention the thrust out of the window. She remained in the emergency ward, lost in a coma with no signs of ever awaking.

Maggie inhaled shakily, her head landing brusquely on her hunched knees and her vision blurring with moisture. After blotting away the treacherous tears the brunette's gaze turned back to the window, peering out at Bryan Bartlett's somewhat blooming garden. Violets sprouted up to the left, accompanied by daisies and several rosebushes. To the right side tulips, chrysanthemums, orchids and jasmines clustered together, forming a wheel of brilliant colors. Weeds throttled a row of sunflowers lower down, however, and Maggie found herself willing the dying flowers to transfuse beautiful yellow once more.

A slight ding from the dishwater broke the brunette from her thoughts. Unfolding her tangled limbs Maggie traipsed across the living room to the kitchen, flipping open a few cabinets on the way there; it wouldn't hurt to help Mr. Bartlett with the dishes, now would it?

A half laugh, half sob burst from the young woman's mouth as she opened the dishwater only to reveal a slightly sopping pile of Henry's clothes.

The blonde's fashion choices had slowly developed and improved as the weeks had passed and now instead of throwing on a Thai sweater he would don a patterned t-shirt and jeans. And yet, somehow, Henry always forgot that the dishwasher was not, in fact, the place to rinse off one's outfits.

With a tiny shrug Maggie grabbed a basket from the linen closet across the hall and began to throw Henry's various clothes into the container, flushing slightly as she came across several pairs of boxer shorts. It wasn't that she minded taking care of boy's intimate apparels but the fact that it was Henry's…well that was something different entirely.

The thought of the blonde teen sent Maggie's head into a spinning havoc of emotions. No matter how much she attempted to deny it, she really wanted her diverse, cultured best friend by her side; without him present she felt scared, as silly as that sounded coming from her. You would think with a war hero father she would be fearless, but no. And with her father dead the frightening developments had gotten disturbingly worse.

The only reason Henry wasn't by her side, however, was because he'd chosen to attend Mr. Winnock's funeral in Maggie's place. The brunette was already too messed up over Jasper's terrible ordeal to go through with another burial anytime soon, even if it was her father. Her best friend would be returning within the hour, but any time alone capsized the young woman.

After tossing all of the still wet clothes in the basket Maggie heaved it up on her head -picturing a Buddhist monk accomplishing the task, of course – before making her way in weaving steps up to the second story landing. Henry had left the door to his room slightly ajar; he'd probably been rushing to get out of the house on time, knowing his uncle's obsession with time schedules.

Kicking the worn door open enough for her to pass, Maggie allowed the basket on her head to land with a _thunk_ on Jasper's bed. Seating herself beside the newly formed pile of Henry's clothes the brunette began to fold them carefully, starting with the pants, to the shorts, and finally his boxers.

As the young woman accomplished the mundane task her chocolate orbs traveled serenely around the fair-sized bedroom, pausing as she noted the faded letter still sitting on the desk.

"There has to be something more," she mused thoughtfully, unfolding the paper, her sharp gaze reading over the words over and over again. But there was absolutely nothing. And then, there was.

A single letter on the lower right hand corner, barely visible compared to the rest of the letter. At second glance it almost looked like Jasper had attempted to erase whatever last regards he'd posted, because the right hand side of what Maggie assumed was a _B _was gone.

"What if he didn't erase it?" She whispered, her finger tracing over the _B _once more. Without another word she crept down into the kitchen.

Five minutes later Maggie was once again kneeling beside the letter, her dark orbs lit with determination to figure this lead out. Beside her sat a teaspoon of lemon juice, a q-tip and a hair-dryer that she assumed used to be the ex- Mrs. Bartlett's.

"You hid something else, Jasper. You were just waiting for us to find it," she realized with a slight widening of her eyes.

Dipping the q-tip into the lemon juice the brunette dabbed the liquid gingerly on the area around the letter _B, _saturating the paper slightly. After repeating the process several times Maggie set aside the lemon juice and q-tip before plugging the hair dryer into the nearest wall socket.

The air seemed to crackling with tension as Maggie flipped the switch to _low _on the hair dryer, aiming it at the damp patch on the letter, waiting and watching for any signs of change. _Please, please let this work, _she found herself praying.

And then, to the young woman's utter astonishment, letters began to appear on the saturated area of the letter, carefully italicized into the parchment. At first it didn't seem to click, but when the words had finally ceased to come into light Maggie gasped out loud.

_**B I L L Y G R AH A M **_

"I knew it," Maggie mumbled, reading the name of the evangelical theologian once more.

For reasons that others wouldn't know, the brunette comprehended exactly why Jasper chose this man's name to hide in the letter.

Billy Graham had been fervent in his opposition of such issues as segregation and degrading cults, especially in the case of the Ku Klux Klan. His main objective was to spread his evangelical message throughout the global community, or, simply, the world.

Of course Jasper would pick this life-changing man to point out in his note. The only question that loomed in Maggie's mind was: why did Jasper choose to hide it from just anyone?

Or perhaps, he was only seeking to share the secret of something so powerful that he was forced to hide it. Who knew where the _Hilabiti _had stationed their followers? In essence, Jasper had done the only thing he could do in a situation like this.

"So, what secret did you find out?" Maggie wondered, her gaze flickering to a specific spot on the wall. Her skin whitened.

Jasper had stated on every possible occasion that Billy Graham was the solution to any problem – it had been a clue he desperately wanted them to uncover, she realized with a start.

The spot her gaze had zeroed in on was a plaque just about Jasper's bed. On it was a quote by Billy Graham: _The men who followed Him were unique in their generation. They turned the world __**upside down**__ because their hearts had been turned right side up. The world has never been the same._

At first it hadn't occurred to Maggie why Jasper would have underlined the words upside down, until she spotted both Hitler and the _Hilabiti's _German symbol drawn just below the quote. But it didn't look exactly right.

The lines of the German symbol seemed to be pointing all wrong and the more that the brunette looked at it, the more Jasper's seemingly unrelated clues snapped together. Billy Graham's quotes, the German symbol on the wall...the symbol was _upside down, _she figured out suddenly, breathing heavily as she stared down the plaque.

From what Mr. Bartlett had shared, this house had been built not too long ago, but before that there was another home standing here, one that had been constructed around the time of Hitler's regime. The cracking foundation, the meticulously designed banisters, it all made sense now. This modern house was the original mansion, with a number of remodeling jobs.

So, if the original villa had been constructed during that tyrannical German period then perhaps some of Hitler's fanatic supporters had lived here. And if they did, they had hidden a terrible secret, one that Jasper had somehow found out about. _That's why they killed him, _her mind whispered and Maggie stumbled against the dresser, shudders wracking her frame as she took in all the new information.

Jumping up on Jasper's queen sized bed Maggie fingered the plaque, her skin flushing crimson as she sweated from overdrive mode. The German symbol was definitely upside down; this she could clearly make out from this closer position, but how to right it was the question.

Perhaps it was simpler than she thought, Maggie figured.

Stretching her hand back out the brunette touched the symbol, feeling around the edges of the design. And then, her breath hitched once more. There was a slight difference in position between the German symbol and the plaque itself, a tiny crack, but a crevice nevertheless.

As Maggie's pointer finger brushed the center of the design suddenly a tiny lever popped out, a clear invitation to pull the design in some way. And on the little lever an upside down heart was etched into the metal. _They turned the world upside down because their __**hearts**__ had been turned right side up._

Pushing away the instinctive reaction to close her eyes and run from the room, Maggie gripped the lever between her thumb and pointer finger and turned it to the right. The sound of concrete scraping against wood reverberated in a shriek throughout the whole room and the brunette gritted her teeth to keep moving the surprisingly heavy symbol.

Finally, after several moments of hard work, the symbol slid in right way up in the plaque and a click emerged from the mounted artifact. Maggie held her breath and then jumped away from the wall as the center of the plaque sprang open, revealing a hollow space inside.

"How…how could Jasper know about this?" Maggie asked herself, daring herself to move closer to the new opening in the wall. Then again, she'd always wondered where the brunette male wandered off to in junior high; now she simply had the answer, and wished that she didn't.

Within the hollow space there was what looked like a keyboard with a foreign alphabet on it. Just about the alphabet rows there was a line of print written in fluent German.

_Wer wünscht, an durch das Portal vorbeizugehen, muss das Kennwort haben._

So enraptured with the panel in front of her Maggie didn't notice the shadow pass in front of the second story window.

Just seconds later the cordless phone rang and the brunette snatched it up eagerly, "Hello?"

"We have your friend," a cold voice initiated from the other end, "so if you want him back, come to the site of your father's funeral."

"H-how do you know about my father's funeral?" Maggie stuttered as her face drained of all color. "Where's Henry?"

"We're the reason you're father's funeral has come to pass," the baritone pronounced venomously and Maggie shivered, pressing against the door for support.

"You killed my father. How dare you!" She shouted, the catch in her voice betraying how scared she really was. Her mind was filled with thoughts of Henry being tortured, causing the tears to clot her speaking tone.

"We don't appreciate that tone of voice, doll-face," the man crooned, almost seductively. "Come to your father's burial ground within the next thirty minutes or your friend dies."

Before Maggie could reply, however, the dial tone from the man's side floated through the connection.

"Henry, please God, not Henry," the brunette whispered in a tortured tone, rushing down the stairs as fast as she probably could.

In her haste Maggie dropped the phone on the edge of the bedspread, leaving the device to slip off the covers and collapse on the carpet, the dial tone still thrumming ominously.

* * *

Maggie skirted the edges of the burial grounds, her breath emitting in short pants, leaving thin tendrils of visible air to curl in the air. The weather was freezing cold, being that it was shortly before Christmas, and the brunette's arms bound around her shivering form, clawing at her short sleeved shirt and wishing that it were a thick coat.

"God, where could he be," she muttered tremulously, her chocolate orbs filling with tears she refused to let spill over. With this cold spell the droplets would only freeze on her face.

Just before the mysterious caller had hung up Maggie had sworn she'd heard Henry crying out in the background and the simple thought of him experiencing pain sent her lurching towards the nearest tree. For several moments the young woman simply dry-heaved, having nothing to expel from her stomach considering she hadn't eaten since yesterday.

Once regaining her thin composure the female continued her trek through the snow-covered lawn, her keen vision searching for any glimpse of her blonde counterpart.

But there was absolutely nothing.

And then, to make the situation absolutely miserable, her cell phone rang again.

Maggie flipped open the device with trembling fingers, "W-what?"

"Now what did I tell you about snapping at me, beautiful?" The sneering voice commented.

"Please just tell me where Henry is. I'll come to you; you can do whatever you want with me, but please, let him go!" Maggie pleaded thickly, shuddering as snow began to fall from the heavens, surrounding her in a winter wonderland.

"Listen to that, Griffin, Miss Maggie seems to have developed some feelings for you," the man noted in a sickeningly fake sweet tone.

"Maggie!" The brunette heard Henry yelp from their end of the line and her heart leapt into her throat.

"God damn it, just let him go!" She yelled angrily, stamping her foot into the white-ish muck below her shoes.

"We'll have to see, my precious. You see, my friend caught you doing something in Jasper's room and we can't let you live with your newfound knowledge," the intruder commented off-handedly, a glimmer of dangerous intent slightly noticeable in his chilly tone.

"Fine, I'll come to you if you agree to let Henry go," Maggie bargained in what she hoped was a neutral tone.

There was a pause from the other end and then finally the man spoke, "Very well, but no funny business. I can see you from where I'm standing; just start walking to the northwest." He gave no other instructions.

Freezing cold, Maggie complied, stomping through the icy conditions in the vague direction the murderer had motioned towards.

Only about eight minutes passed before she spotted a sort of campground set up just ahead. Several steps more and she could make out a man pointing a rifle at none other than Henry, who was struggling futilely in his rope bonds.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here," someone mumbled from behind her and a beam of some sort connected harshly with the back of her head, sending her into a world of pain as she fell into the snow.

Maggie felt rope tying her hands tightly behind her back, nearly to the point of cutting off her circulation. After a bit she was tugged to a standing position and thrust in the direction of the campground.

"We had a deal," the brunette hissed as she noted the man pointing the gun at Henry. "Let him go and I'll stay."

As Henry's hazel orbs connected with her exhausted, agonized gaze he smiled slightly and Maggie felt her spirits lift. No matter what the circumstances they were here, together for a moment and they were going to let her best friend go.

After shuffling her closer the man pushed Maggie headfirst towards the tree. The young woman closed her eyes as she braced herself for her head to connect with the wood, probably fracturing her skull, but the pain never came. Henry had slid over and caught her trembling body in his lap.

"Hey," he mumbled tenderly as Maggie rested her head wearily on his broad shoulder, feeling somewhat at peace considering what was occurring around them.

"Hey," the brunette whispered, unable to put any more effort into talking. She had to save her words to negotiate with their overseer. She felt Henry's lips connect briefly with her forehead before she turned her attention to the brains of the operation.

"You agreed that if I came here then you would let Henry go. Please follow through with your side of the negotiations." Maggie demanded feebly.

"Now why would I do that?" The man asked, a cruel smirk emerging on his scarred face. "You both know too much, so we may as well keep you here for a bit before…disposing of your corpses."

Maggie's lungs deflated as her mouth fell agape, "You can't keep us here!" She snapped.

"I can do whatever I want," the murderer replied with a little tilt of his head.

"But…" the young woman attempted to protest, but before she could say anything the minion thrust a sock in her mouth, muffling her voice. Maggie nearly gagged with the taste of sweat and bile.

The intruder lifted up her chin, gazing creepily into her caramel orbs, "Are you a virgin? Because I love violating virgins." He laughed mercilessly, slapping her across the face before retreating.

A tear slipped down Maggie's face, one of sheer terror, before she buried her face into the crook of Henry's neck. She could feel her best friend tense beneath her, his unspoken words easy to comprehend. _I'm going to get us out of here, Maggie. Please don't cry._

Now if only she could believe him.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

_**I know, I just keep becoming crueler and crueler to these main characters, but it will get better, I promise. What did you think though, honestly? I love your opinions. ;)**_

_**Till the next installment, I hope this is enough to suffice you for a couple days. **_

_**-mktoddsparky**_


	7. Part Six

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

_In all things it is better to hope than to despair__ - _Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

_Perhaps the strongest evidence that women have as broad and deep a capacity for physical aggression as men is anecdotal. And as with men, this capacity has expressed itself in acts from the brave to the brutal, the selfless to the senseless. – _Katherine Dunn

_Circle encircles the earth  
Chance and choice break his heart  
His innocent arm moves to save me and I am spared_

His beautiful arm  
Is bloody and cut off  
His heart ripped out to show me he loved me

But I would not believe him  
He did all that he could  
I still would not believe him

I left his arms empty and tied  
Outstretched for me until he died  
Left his arms empty and tied  
Outstretched for me until he died

No man shows greater love  
Than when a man  
Lays down his life  
For his beloved

Here I'm alive  
And I don't have the right  
He gave me the right  
Costing him his life  
New mercies in the morning

I believe  
What if I believe you now  
Could it ever change this heart  
Forgive me, believe me  
Please come back tonight  
Come back to my life – The lyrics to Circle by Flyleaf

**P A R T S I X **

* * *

Maggie was vaguely aware of the sharp prick of a needle piercing the skin of her upper arm that night and everything after that was a dull blur of wheeling colors and then impenetrable darkness.

There were mumbling voices…she was being lifted…she felt warm arms encircle her…Henry was whispering words in her ear…she drifted into unconsciousness…

There was sunlight pouring in…she wanted to open her eyes but something blocked her…more pain in her upper arm…they were drugging her…more blackness…

Rumbles of a truck on a freeway…Henry's lips pressing against her cheek gently…his fingers caressing her hair, arms and torso…

The next thing she knew her eyelids were fluttering open and connecting with the whirling interior of a car. The windows were tinted dark enough so no curious pedestrians or bicyclists could peek in and discover this atrocity. Bullet holes dotted the plain grey ceiling and at various points during the drive stray bits of leaves or pine needles would snake in through the slight openings.

Her sleepy chocolate orbs reviewed the state of her body; she felt like she'd been hit by a truck and bruises dotted the revealed patches of skin that weren't covered by Henry's jacket. Her head ached so bad that she was afraid it would burst. If she wasn't so scared she would have demanded for some aspirin.

The driver of the vehicle was the boss behind the operations and luckily neither he nor the woman helping him in the front had glanced back yet.

Warm fingers tightened slightly around Maggie's waist and the brunette's shadowed gaze shot upward, softening as it connected with the face of her best friend. Henry was fast sleep, his mouth slightly agape and his eyelids fluttering as he floated peacefully in dreamland.

Maggie wondered if her wrists were still tied together but a quick flick upward of her left arm proved that theory false. Her fingers skimmed over Henry's slightly scarred neck, brushing up past his flushed cheekbones and back down again, repeating the process several more times.

She attempting sitting up but quickly discovered she was nowhere near healed enough to accomplish the task; pressing her lips to the crook of Henry's neck Maggie allowed herself to relax slightly. Just the sound of the blonde male breathing calmed the brunette's anxious spirit. If Henry was here with her then there was no reason to be afraid, she concluded determinedly.

And yet it was sort of hard to avoid the obvious fact that the two of them were kidnapped and being smuggled to who knows where. The thought of the boss' cruel remark earlier, one that clearly stated he couldn't wait to rid of their rotting corpses, sent Maggie into a cold sweat. She and Henry had to find a way to get out of this before they were murdered; the main question was how long they actually had before their kidnappers tired of their breathing presence.

Henry grunted and wiggled underneath her and curious tingles spread throughout Maggie's body; as much as she tried to ignore the sexual tension it was rather impossible now. Heck, if they were to be murdered soon anyways she may as well man up and tell Henry how she felt.

"You're awake," Henry slurred, his famous smile spreading across his face for the first time in days.

"I should be the one saying that," Maggie muttered weakly, weaving her arms tighter around the boy's waist. She winced as Henry pulled her into a hug and pain crackled down her whole body.

"Ow," she hissed under her breath, attempting to hide her discomfort from her best friend.

"Did I hurt you?" Henry asked, guilt blooming in his hazel orbs, along with something else she couldn't place. Was it just her, or did the car's heater turn up 30 degrees?

"It's okay, I'm fine," the brunette attempted placating the male teen holding her in his lap. Her face was flushing more by the minute and Henry's lips looked extremely appetizing.

"This is all my fault," he replied harshly, mentally beating himself up. Maggie was obviously suffering all because he decided to go out and be stupid.

"No, don't -" Maggie began.

"Well, looks like the two lovebirds are awake," the boss began in a chilling tone. "Demi, you know what to do," he instructed the black-haired beauty beside him in the front.

Maggie watched as the minion readied a needle with the drug that would knock her out, a combination of hatred and helplessness battling in her red-hazed vision, "I'd rather remain awake, thank you very much!"

"Don't fight, beautiful, or I'll make sure your first time is extremely painful," the driver hinted, smirking in the mirror so that both teens could see his silver gaze glinting.

"You'll pay for this," Henry snarled under his breath, but like his female counterpart he was unable to act at the present moment. He could only watch as the young minion pointed the needle directly at one of Maggie's veins.

Maggie felt a sharp pain in her foot as Demi pressed the needle through her skin, allowing several droplets of blood to squeeze out of the new wound. After emptying the contents of the vial into the brunette's bloodstream the minion glanced at her manager, "Anything else, sir?"

"Yes, I do believe our blonde friend here needs a little encouragement," the driver remarked, waggling his bushy eyebrows meaningfully. "Put a small bubble in the girl's vein."

Henry let out a shocked yelp, "That'll kill her! Please, no!"

"No, it won't kill her, but it will sure hurt for the next several hours," the boss explained, flashing the two young adults a thin lipped smile. "Now, Henry, if you don't cooperate, I'll have Demi inject a bubble large enough to kill your little lovebird in less than ten minutes."

"I'll do anything, just don't kill Maggie," Henry pleaded, his jaw trembling as a burning feeling traveled up to his normally dry orbs, saturating them.

"Good boy," the driver responded, nodding at Demi to continue with the bubble.

Maggie let out a choked whimper in her nearly unconscious state as the minion pushed the needle back into the vein, creating another wound. After playing with the needle a bit to stretch the cut inside and cause the brunette as much agony as possible Demi sucked a little air into the tube and released a small bubble into the vein.

A few moments later Maggie's world faded to black, a painful yet death defying darkness.

* * *

Hours passed and yet their kidnappers didn't cease driving; Henry could only recognize the rare plants blooming on either side of the single-lane road because his family had driven these Utah trails on their quest for the extremely scarce Black-legged Kittiwake.

Maggie writhed in his arms, little whimpers emulating from her pale lips every few moments. Blood had dried around the tiny prick on her foot and the metallic scent clogged the air, making Henry plug his nose reluctantly.

The blonde felt terribly guilty over the fact that he hadn't done more to protect the brunette in his arms; just the sight of her now, crying out in agony, sent shivers down his spine. For the second time that day his hazel orbs glistened with unshed tears.

Worry spiked in the normally level-headed young man's chest as Maggie moaned once more, twisting slightly so that her trembling lips were pressed against his wrist. It had been several hours since Demi had injected the bubble into his best friend's vein and Henry couldn't even imagine how much pain the brunette must be in.

Through his inner torments Henry could make out the two murderers up front musing in sharp whispers. Craning his ear slightly in the duo's direction the blonde male set himself to eavesdropping; you never knew what people would disclose these days.

"You've got to be kidding me," the driver, whose name Henry had recently discovered was Jehav, muttered in disgust.

"What? Am I supposed to apologize for having an unfortunately tiny bladder?" Demi demanded, crossing her arms defiantly and tossing her raven-black locks back for dramatic effect.

"You're supposed to hold it!" Jehav exclaimed, exasperated with the petite woman. "What does it take to find a decent minion now-a-days?"

"Well so-rry for not being Miss Perfect!" the young woman shouted. "Just get off here."

She pointed in the direction of a gas station that Henry hadn't noticed. There was a shack-like store behind it, the horrible orange paint peeling in certain places. The windows were barred and there was an unrealistic drawing of a Mexican man holding a bottle of 'Revero's Beer' on the right wall facing the road.

"You have five minutes," the driver threatened, zipping up his fancy Italian leather coat as he stepped out.

"And where are you going?" Demi snapped, stomping in the direction of the store, shadowed closely by her boss.

"I'm hungry," Jehav complained, rubbing his slightly protruding belly. "I haven't eaten since yesterday, thanks to these two brats!"

"Well, no worries. They'll be dead by tomorrow," the black-haired fiend comforted, patting her manager's shoulder. Bickering back and forth continuously, the pair disappeared into the store, the ringing of a bell signifying their arrival.

"What was that about?" Maggie whispered and Henry started, having not realized she'd awoken. Pulling the brunette into a secure hug the blonde rocked her back and forth, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"It's nothing," Henry reassured the girl, his senses snapping into hard-drive instantly as he realized something. They were alone in the car for a few minutes, just enough time to escape. "But right now, we need to leave."

"Too late," Maggie gulped, pointing a shaky finger towards the store where Demi was making her way back to the car. "Henry, run….now!"

"I'm not going to leave you here," he protested, his fingers curling around the handle of the door.

"It doesn't help if both of us are captive, now does it?" the young woman pressed, her hazy brown orbs studying him. "Go," she whispered a second later, pushing on his chest gently, "and come back for me later."

Henry didn't move for a second, understanding the implications of the sacrifice his best friend was portraying, "I'll come back to save you," he promised, the gears in his brain twirling.

Demi had stopped by the gas pump, her nimble pointer finger jabbing in a combination of numbers; her mouth seemed to be set in a permanent scowl. Jehav hadn't reappeared from the interior of the store yet, thank God.

Before he could think about it, Henry had lowered his head, pressing his soft lips against Maggie's. It was only a brief kiss but through it both of the young adults discovered the strength necessary to go through with this possibly devastating plan.

As their mouths parted Maggie felt the tears sting her chocolate orbs, a single droplet rolling down her cheek; she didn't know if she'd ever see Henry again, but she also comprehended that this was the only way to save at least one of them. "Run," she mumbled, pushing him towards the tinted window.

Glancing back at his best friend one more time Henry inhaled sharply before cracking open the door. His converse hit the concrete under the car and Demi's head swiveled in his direction; as the minion spotted that one prisoner was escaping a shocked yell emitted from her chest, "JEHAV!"

Henry was already sprinting away, his heart pounding in his chest. A moment later the driver spilled out of the store, clutching a gleaming knife in his right hand; the older, slightly chubbier man took off after the run-away, screaming profanities, but bit by bit Henry gained distance from the murderer. The aggravated cries soon died away, leaving the shuddering teenage boy by himself in the growing twilight.

The blonde male slumped against a garbage disposal, pants making his chest thump up and down unevenly. His lips still felt soft and tingly from the kiss with Maggie and yet at the same time those delightful feelings brought pain; Henry had escaped but his best friend was still in mortal danger.

"I'm coming, Mags, just hold on," he muttered, a sharp pain suddenly attacking his side. His hand stretched down to clutch his waist, red blooming over his calloused fingers and slowly Henry realized that there was blood dripping from a considerably deep wound on his abdomen.

Jehav's blood-encrusted knife lay flat on the ground, the stained blade glimmering ominously in the fading light. The driver must have thrown it, Henry realized, wincing as more pain shot through his body. The cut wasn't life-threatening, luckily, but it did sting horribly.

Several minutes later Henry determined that the coast was safe enough to traverse back to the store; hopefully he could discover a form of transportation to follow the desecrator's van. The blood from the cut on his side had stopped flowing but his shirt was now permanently coated in the crimson substance and the wound burned. But at least he could still walk, the blonde thought gratefully.

To his relief there was a beat down Ford sitting by one of the gas pumps, the lights still beaming full force. A thick canvas covered the back of the mud splattered vehicle, the perfect position to stow away in, Henry figured out, his hazel orbs narrowing in concentration as he crept towards the truck.

An old man with a twirling grey mustache that Henry assumed was the driver was conversing in a Southern twang with a very familiar face. The blonde felt anger bubble over his wall of self-control, building up in the urge to hit the person who'd ruined all their lives.

"Is there anything you have to say before I slit your throat?" Henry spat, pacing in the direction of Jeremy Torante.

Jeremy's silver gaze connected superiorly with the teenager, "What on earth are you talking about?" His eyes widened. "Why, Mr. Henry Griffin, isn't it?"

"Don't pretend like this is some coincidence; I know everything!" Henry roared, sliding out Jehav's razor sharp knife and pointing it right at the shrewd businessman.

"Again, I intercept…I'm afraid I haven't a clue as to what you're rambling about," the stiff man insisted with a brisk nod.

"You killed Jasper and had Maggie and I kidnapped," Henry hissed, doubt flickering in his hazel orbs as he saw pure shock wipe any other emotion from Jeremy's face.

"Henry, I assure you –" Mr. Torante began, only to be cut off.

"Hey guys, what's…" the blonde haired arrival's perky tone died off as she spotted the knife being pointed right at her boss' jugular vein. "H-henry, what are you doing?"

"Miss Voltez?" The blonde haired adolescence wondered, surprise flaring across his gaze. Automatically he lowered the knife and Jeremy stepped away, gasps squeezing from his diaphragm.

"Call me Sarah, please," the young woman insisted, patting her wavy ringlets as confusion permeating the distress in her dancing green orbs. "What's going on here?" She asked Henry, a hint of sublime desperation nudging into her warm tone.

"Jasper's death wasn't an accident and when Maggie and I went to investigate we were kidnapped. I escaped but the murderers still have Maggie," Henry explained breathlessly, shoving the now closed knife into his front pocket.

"Oh God," Sarah's hand slapped over her mouth as she digested the startling information.

"What did they look like, your kidnappers?" Jeremy asked hurriedly, fiddling with the contents of his briefcase; finally he managed to tug out a notepad and a Sea-world pen, whales drawn diving playfully on the oceanic scene on the writing utensil.

"The woman had jet black hair, her iris' were a dull brown, she stood at about 5'6," Henry described the minion vividly, shivering as he recalled his imprisonment in the tinted van. "The man called her Demi."

"Demi Locareas, five round murderer," Sarah chimed in, her deep pools alit with fright. "She's known to move around this area, changing gangs every few weeks…she's on the top ten most dangerous list, sir."

Jeremy Torante scribbled something down on the notepad, the edge of the pen brushing abstract patterns on the pure surface. When he didn't stop tracing right away Henry's bushy eyebrows rose in sync, his gears working furiously to come up with an explanation for the phenomenon.

"Did she look something like this?" The businessman turned the notepad around, revealing a startlingly accurate drawing of the cruel minion.

Her head was heart shaped, her bony jaw coming to a crooked halt and nearly forming a double chin. Black, stick-straight hair flowed to just past shoulder length, although the dark locks looked far too neat in the impersonation. Her nose slightly resembled a button, although it was quite narrow until branching out into a circular knob at the end; several freckles marred her delicate cheekbones and the tips of her nostrils.

But the most fantastic description of the minion's emotion was in her eyes. The skin around them was stretched, as though she hadn't been born with an adequate amount of skin cells, but this physical problem didn't seem to inhibit the width of her eyes. They were shockingly huge, like a doe's, but unlike the frisky creatures Demi's irises were coal black and so, so cold. There was almost a tinge of desperation, a need to escape reality in those black holes of desecration, however, one that set Henry to pondering if the female really wanted to be in the situation she'd landed herself a part of.

"Well?" Jeremy wondered impatiently, the toe of his expensive crocodile leather boot tapping the earth and sending puffs of dirt air-bound.

"That's her," Henry remarked assuredly, shifting his footing as a gust of cool wind swept through, ruffling the parties' hair quite considerably.

"And you said there was a man as well?" Sarah wondered, tilting her head in his direction.

"Yes, someone named Jehav," the blonde haired teen insinuated, his green-brown speckled orbs swimming with intensity. He was in locked focus mode. "He looked middle-eastern, but the tinge of his skin wasn't that dark. It was somewhere in the spectrum between African and Chinese."

Jeremy's hand snaked into his briefcase once more, pulling out a worn photograph; the date on the corner of the colored print read 1987, "This is the man, Jehav Isodolni."

"Why does his surname sound Italian?" Henry questioned.

"The man's mother, Alessandra from the house of Esposito, was born a full Italian woman; she took a journey to visit Afghanistan to divulge its complex culture and fell in love. It was only a summer romance, apparently, and the poor woman was heartbroken when she returned home. And then, a few months later Alessandra discovered that she was expecting." Jeremy paused and motioned at his assistant to finish the story.

Apparently Sarah was as well rehearsed in the family's story because she continued without a hitch, "So Alessandra sent a letter to her unborn child's father, Fabio, begging him to come home, but he wouldn't. And so, because she loved him so much she moved to his city in Afghanistan and they got married." She stopped as the tears moistened her shining orbs.

Jeremy seemed to understand that Miss Voltez couldn't continue so he illustrated on in his powerful baritone, "When Alessandra was eight months along she realized a horrible truth. Fabio had changed in the few months; he'd fallen into the folly of gambling and had wasted away all his money on drugs. His young wife didn't have any money to return home, however, so she stayed with her love.

"And so, Jehav Isodolni was brought into the world a month later. The new parents were fine for awhile; Fabio quit gambling and drinking and the couple was able to construct a modest hut for their little family. But, unfortunately, it didn't last.

"When Jehav was six he noticed that his father was starting to act strange. Alessandra brushed off her son's observations, pushing herself into a little hole so that she could pretend nothing was wrong. But she knew, oh she knew what her husband was becoming once again.

"When Jehav was seven Fabio started to hit his mother; I'm not just talking about a simple slap across the face. I mean full blown punches to every inch of the woman's body. The boy would see her undress sometimes and follow the trails of bruises and cuts dotting her skin, but still his mother would brush it off, insisting that Fabio was just going through a hard time.

"But just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, it did. Fabio had been slowly creeping back into gambling and drinking and one night he'd been drinking three times more than he normally did. Jehav had been running errands and as he walked back home he heard screams echoing from his house. Fabio would have killed his wife if his son hadn't intervened. As it was, she suffered from multiple broken ribs, a broken arm and a broken leg. Jehav fought his father off and managed to drive Fabio unconscious by hitting him with a mallet atop the brow.

"From the time Jehav was seven until fourteen his father both verbally and physically abused him, but the boy just took it; he didn't want his mother to be killed. But finally, Jehav couldn't take it anymore. One night when Fabio was in a particularly harsh rage his own son stabbed him in the heart, killing him quickly. Alessandra nearly killed herself when she saw her husband's lifeless body lying in a pool of his own blood; she loved Fabio even when he abused her and her son."

Henry was shell-shocked by this point but he managed to mumble, "So what happened?" He forced back the instinctive gag reflex; how a man could bear to abuse his wife and child was…sickening.

"Jehav and his mother moved to America, to a city not far from here, actually. Alessandra's mind had been horribly damaged from the many beatings and she relied on her son to take care of her in her reduced state. Finally, ten years after they escaped Fabio she died, probably from shock more than anything else, leaving her only son to take care of himself."

"Is this why Jehav has been massacring innocent people?" Henry wondered, his gut wrenching at the thought. The man was turning into his father more than he realized.

"I'm afraid so," Jeremy confirmed. Sarah was in tears.

"One thing that sheds light on the reason for Jehav's admission to the _Hilabiti _was because as a child he always loved Hitler's dominance over the human race. And add to that that his father was a Jew, well…you can see where this is going." Mr. Torante concluded grimly, interlacing his fingers.

"That sick bastard has Maggie," Henry swallowed hard, biting his tongue to refrain from screaming.

"Then we need to find her as soon as possible; who knows what that messed up man has in store for her," the businessman mused with a grimace.

* * *

Maggie leaned against the cot in the corner of the grimy cell, her head collapsed onto her limp fingers like a rag doll about to be shipped off to the Goodwill. The smell in her confined space was horrible, like someone had dumped a dead animal in there to rot, which wouldn't surprise her. Then again, the sewage system emptied out into the drainage from here, so that was most likely the cause of the stench.

Brushing away some of the soot and tear-tracks from her porcelain cheeks the brunette straightened slightly, gazing around at the unkempt room. She nearly screeched as a rat scampered across the tile, his pink nose sniffing out any source of rotting food to store away.

"Well, well well," the dark voice crooned and Jehav jimmied his key in the lock, sliding the barred door open just wide enough for his curvy shape to fit through. As soon as he was in he allowed the door to swing shut, locking with an ominous clang.

Maggie shivered as the creepy man backed her into the back wall, his fingers reaching for places they shouldn't. Tears burned her vision as Jehav's dirty lips brushed against the skin of her neck, trailing sloppy kisses to the V-neck of her t-shirt, "Please don't."

Jehav slapped her, the sound resonating throughout the dingy sewer hideout, "What did I tell you about talking defiant to me?"

"I'm sorry," Maggie whispered, whimpering as the man lifted up the hem of her shirt, his black fingers brushing the waistband of her jeans. "Please don't make me do this!"

Jehav pushed the young woman into the opposing wall, laughing evilly to himself as her back slapped against the tile, "Fine, not today, but tonight, I'm going to steal your virginity and there's nothing you can do about it! Not so smart now that your boyfriend's gone, are you?" He taunted, his slimy lips pressing against her throat once more before he exited her cell and left.

Tears began to streak down Maggie's pale face as she slumped down to the floor once more, "Henry, where are you?"

* * *

**SPARKNOTES: **

**_Hey guys, please ignore the little bits of English and German down here; I forgot to put them on the next chapter becuause they make absolutely no sense here, lol :D I hope you enjoyed and I'll try to get the next part up soon!_**


	8. Part Seven

****

Omnipotent: A Menry Story

* * *

_Every man is afraid of something. That's how you know he's in love with you; when he is afraid of losing you.__ – _Unknown

_Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.__ – _Lance Armstrong

_God places the heaviest burden on those who can carry its weight.__ – _Reggie White

* * *

**P A R T / S E V E N **

* * *

Twilight faded outside the barred windows of the grimy cell and Maggie shivered almost unconsciously, weaving her arms about her waist to ward off the chilling demonic images in her head. A few crickets chirped uneasily in the fresh air but their tune sounded almost wistful, as though they too recognized that her life was about to end.

Maggie bit her lower lip, fighting back a sob of sheer terror as she imagined what the night ahead would hold for her. Sure, her kidnappers might not dispose of her rotting corpse just yet but the event scheduled for this evening would be enough to emotionally shatter the young woman.

The brunette didn't understand what could have provoked Jehav to this enormity of cruel intents. What had he got through to harden him from feeling guilt over the fact that he was about to violate a poor, defenseless girl?

But now was not the time to dwell on such depressing thoughts, Maggie determined, setting her pursed lips in a thin line. Tears trembled in her chocolate orbs, threatening to drain down her shrunken cheeks and expose just how scared she really was, but the intelligent adolescent wouldn't allow this act.

Just then the door across the hall creaked open and Maggie flattened herself against the stone wall, her heart thumping like a metronome on steroids. _Not yet, I'm not ready. _

"Hello there, slut," Demi crowed, flipping her black ringlets behind her shoulders as she advanced, clutching something in her claw-like fingers. "Don't worry, it's not quite time for the big show, but the boss wanted me to give you a little somethin'."

The minion flung a peach colored robe in the cell, chuckling darkly at the mortified pendulum of emotions twisting in Maggie's gaze. "Put it on, now," she ordered.

"I won't dress in that…thing," Maggie snapped, huddling into a tiny ball on the floor as she fought to keep her voice in check. _I'm strong, I can fight them._

"You're so hilarious," Demi mused, sinking her hand into her pocket and removing a gleaming old-century rifle. "But you seem to forget who's really in charge here." The merciless woman loaded the trigger.

Maggie's eyes widened as Demi pointed the gun right at the former's head, "Don't you dare shoot me!"

"Oh, no worries, I'm not going to shoot you now," the minion hissed, her tone dripping with fake charisma.

"Really?" The brunette wondered hopefully, brushing the bruised skin under her luminescent orbs.

"Jehav wants to hear you scream when he steals your virginity," Demi explained, flashing the prisoner a glimpse of her glinting white teeth bared in the beginning of a snarl. "But after the show…you're all mine." She brushed the barrel of the weapon in a reverent manner, "Now put it on!"

"No, I won't do it," Maggie argued heatedly, pressing her fingers into the cold metals bars blocking her escape route.

"I wouldn't push this situation, stupid girl," Demi threatened, pressing the trigger and firing a bullet into the wall just beside the brunette. Steam began to billow around the golf-ball sized dent in the stone and the minion cackled at the young prisoner's expression.

Finally, when the weapon that could steal away the shroud remains of her life was pressed gingerly against the blanched skin of the American's brow, Maggie relented, "Fine, whatever."

Gathering the robe in her hands Maggie prepared to strip down, noting at the last moment that Demi was resting against the adjacent wall, rather feline purrs emitting from her luscious red lips; the woman's black orbs were unreadable, blank like a fresh slate and her fingers still gripped the rifle rather tightly.

"Um, do you mind?" The brunette questioned, her half-delusional orbs doing a 360.

"Do you actually think I'm going to leave you alone?" Demi questioned with a bark of a laugh. "You're Henry Griffin's best friend; he probably taught you a bunch of tricks to break out of here, so I'm not taking a damn chance."

"Henry didn't teach me _anything_," Maggie insisted, removing Henry's jacket from around her shoulders rather hesitantly. As the chilly evening air met her skin goosebumps began to dot her skin instantly and the young woman let out a reclusive shudder.

"Like I'm actually going to believe that, you little whore," the dark-skinned woman chortled maliciously, swiping her tongue across her lips to draw beads of saliva towards the cracked skin.

"Well, you should," Maggie mumbled under her breath, "asshole."

"_What_ did you just call me?" Demi exclaimed in a high-pitched snarl.

"Nothing," the attractive brunette whispered, drawing the edge of her shirt up until the thin piece of fabric released from her fit form, drooping towards the termite infested floor. _Henry, I'm scared._

Maggie could almost envision her blonde best friend leaning over her, his fingers gently caressing her flaming cheek as he whispered: _Don't worry Mags, I'm coming. Just hold on a little longer._

Once the young woman had stripped down to nothing but her silky black B-cup bra and polka dot underwear she slid on the surprisingly comfy peach robe, snuggling into the soft material. If not for the reason she'd changed clothing Maggie would have been able to relax right about now, but instead, every muscle in her body locked with terror.

"It's time," Demi crooned seductively from her corner in the hallway, peeling off the stone with a scraping sound.

Maggie's eyes blinked rapidly for a second as she thought of a plan; it was a rough sketch and probably really stupid, but it was better then just sitting around like a dead cow, "Alright, let's just get this over with." She sagged her shoulders purposefully, acting as if she'd given up all hope. _Please let her take the bait._

"About time," the brunette heard Demi mutter grudgingly before her slender hands reached for Maggie's, preparing to tie up their prisoner.

Suddenly Maggie flipped away from her abductor, her back foot digging into the dirt as she kicked the woman flat in her gut, sending her flying back several feet. The minion let out a startled _oomph_, struggling to regain her sense of balance, but Maggie was already upon her. The brunette's right fist smashed into Demi's nose and blood began to spurt from what she assumed was the broken facial feature.

"HELP!" Demi managed to scream before she toppled onto the floor, falling into the clutches of the unconscious devils.

Almost immediately Maggie was by the older woman's head, her lithe fingers pulling a small bit of rope and tying the minion's hands together. After that she stuffed a piece of her torn shirt into Demi's mouth, gagging the woman so that she couldn't yell for reinforcements when she came to.

"I knew those martial arts lessons would come in handy," Maggie muttered, smirking as she recalled the first time she'd used her new-found skills. On one fateful afternoon several months beforehand Henry had stumbled into a mess of quicksand, unraveling a highly complicated murder mystery connected to what they thought were the Vikings. Eventually they discovered that the civilization was far more ancient than the original time period, however.

Anyways, when the murderers had cornered Maggie and her two friends the brunette had actually been able to fight the woman of the trio battling them, soundly crushing her. Of course, the young woman did suffer from a nasty concussion and a mess of bruises, but it'd been totally worth it.

A quick glance to the right assured the brunette that she'd better _not _head that direction. She could distinctly make out piano music from beyond the single door, a haunting yet enthralling melody that caused the hairs on the back of the girl's neck to stand out.

So that left the remaining corridor; Maggie didn't know if it would lead to freedom or deeper into this madness but she had to try.

* * *

In the security chamber a guard lay sprawled out on a plush chair, his eyelids drooping as he vaguely surveyed the various computers.

Beside the man, strewn across the counter-top, was an assortment of McDonald burger wraps and empty fry containers. The stench of the fast food still permeated the grimy atmosphere of the place, almost a relief to the slowly slumping male. This dungeon hideout normally smelled more of death than anything else. Death and pure terror, that is.

The guard's cerulean orbs traveled dully back across the array of monitors once more. He really detested this job, but at least it paid, and for the most part he didn't have to worry about any gangs in the area. This one was the most feared system of murderers around, so they prided themselves with.

All of a sudden the guard's gaze froze, his eyes slowly widening as they pinpointed a blurry figure on computer #5. The boss' sidekick, Demitria, was lying down on the dusty ground, unconscious; her arms and legs were tied with what looked like rope and a gag had been stuffed into her mouth, prohibiting her from screaming.

And just to the right of the minion stood none other than their main prisoner, Margaret Winnock; she was glancing back and forth between the two passageways as though unable to decide her escape route.

Instinctively the shocked guard reached for the keypad, punching in a seven letter code and allowing a red button to rise on the control panel. Slamming the crimson control the man reached for a microphone attached to an ear-piece on his neck, shouting, "Code red! Prisoner One is escaping, I repeat, Prisoner One is escaping!"

A siren began to sound, wailing like cat being stomped on.

* * *

Back in Mr. Torante's van Henry was banging his head against the plush interior, his vision blurring more with each second. He'd hadn't slept in what felt like days and although normally the rambunctious young man could sedate his rash emotions into a serene cylinder Jeremy's extremely slowly driving was irritating him.

"Can't you drive any faster?" He wondered bleakly, rubbing his half-closed eyes with his right hand.

"Do you _want _me to get in a fatal car accident, Mr. Griffin?" Jeremy called back, apparently irked by the youngling's remark about his fantastic driving skills.

"Henry, please don't –" Sarah attempted to intervene but the two men ignored her.

"Do you _want _Maggie to die?" Henry mocked, inwardly fuming. So much for his impenetrable self-control.

"Are you suggesting that I don't care about Miss Winnock?" Mr. Torante exclaimed agitatedly, his fingers tightening on the wheel; the car swerved slightly to the right.

"Guys…" the assistant moaned, sinking down in her seat.

"Well, if you did care for her then you'd been driving faster!" Henry yelled, his hazel orbs glowing with both furious intent directed at the man in the front spot and fear for the brunette.

Jeremy gritted his teeth to bite back an imbecilic retort before punching his right foot down on the accelerator. The van shot forward as though suddenly propelled a meteor explosion.

Henry winced as his head connected with the sharp post at the side of the back sliding door, pain bursting as dark spots into his perceptive vision, "What do you have down there, rocket boosters?"

"Petroleum liquid boosters, actually, also known as RP-1," Sarah explained, twisting in her seat to toss back a first aid kit. Henry smiled gratefully in the blonde's direction, grasping the surprisingly heavy box of medical tools.

"In a liquid propellant rocket, the fuel and oxidizer are stored in separate tanks, and are fed through a system of pipes, valves, and turbopumps to a combustion chamber where they are combined and burned to produce thrust. Liquid propellant engines are more complex than their solid propellant counterparts, however, they offer several advantages. By controlling the flow of propellant to the combustion chamber, the engine can be throttled, stopped, or restarted," Jeremy continued in a dull monotone, grimacing as he spotted something in his rear view mirror.

"You stole that description from NASA," Sarah frowned, shaking her head in a derogatory manner.

"This is not the time, Miss Voltez," the shrewd businessman chided, making a quick switch to the far left lane. His gaze shot anxiously back to the mirror, checking something apparently important.

"What's wrong?" Henry asked quietly, peering through the double window in the back of the tinted van. Immediately the adolescent's hazel orbs widened considerably.

A Mercedes was following them close behind, the driver of the expensive vehicle pointing a Derringer right at Jeremy's company car.

"Who is he?" The blonde haired male questioned his superior.

"Name: Rich Donalee, another one of the top ten most wanted. He works closely with Maggie's kidnappers," Sarah filled in helpfully.

"He's got a gun," Henry warned, just as a shot rang out and the left hand mirror of the van shattered. All three in the car ducked instinctively.

Henry shot his head back up almost immediately, scanning the road for the enemy vehicle; it was right behind them. "I'd switch lanes," he advised and Jeremy swerved the SUV three lanes over, nearly bowling into a mini-van.

More shots rang out and Henry watched as Rich pulled out a combat shotgun and, letting go of the wheel, he fired a round of bullets in the direction of the rescuer's caper. The Mercedes swerved once more, knocking several cars into the edge of the road where moments later they collided and blew up.

"Well, apparently the _Hilabiti_ aren't interested in keeping us alive," Henry pointed out obviously.

Several cracks split the air but the bullets weren't directed at the original target and they weren't bullets either. The trio watched, horrified, as a bomb detonated, shriveling a section of the freeway into rubble; several more innocent cars swooped over the edge of the impact, crashing into the ground a number of feet below with sickening crunches.

"He's using CBU-58A/B's to get rid of the cars," Jeremy mumbled under his breath, his strained gaze tightening with understanding as he spotted the oncoming bridge.

"What are –" Henry began.

"The cluster bomb used to destroy human bodies and destroy light skinned military or civilian vehicles. The dispenser holds 650 baseball-sized bomblets to be dispersed indiscriminately over a wide area," Sarah responded meticulously, biting her nails viciously as the Mercedes tossed out another bomb, destroying a crucial support beam of the bridge. The national monument shuddered as both speeding vehicles changed ahead.

Since Henry's start in Washington DC and the join up with Jeremy and Sarah in Utah the group had traversed nearly the entire United States in search of Maggie, finally ending up in the _Hilabiti's _prime location, San Francisco, California. Of course, the group itself probably met together in Hollywood, the capital of crime, next to Las Vegas: Sin City.

"They're going to blow up the Golden Gate Bridge with us on it," Henry realized, his heart thumping madly in his chest.

"Yes," Jeremy confirmed, the distress permeating his normally laid back personality.

"But they can't do that! The Golden Gate Bridge has been in existence since 1937; it's a national monument!" Henry cried, trying to make sense of this injustice.

Another bomb exploded, knocking out two more support beams and sending a flurry of unsuspecting drivers into the murky Pacific Ocean below. Sirens were beginning to wail as a flood of paramedics zoomed towards the soon-to-be incredible crime scene.

If the _Hilabiti _hadn't been chasing them, if Maggie was safe, then Henry would have actually been able to enjoy his first trip to California. But, as it was, the blonde adolescent's brain gears were working at ten million watts to determine an insane yet somewhat fool-proof plan to keep them alive.

Flames were beginning to lick up the sides of the crimson banisters of the huge bridge, burning away the countless hours of paint jobs and leaving an acrid tang to the air. Smoke billowed in gigantic drifts around the slowly ceased movement of traffic; red brake lights were all there was to see for miles behind them. The bridge groaned, expressing her agony over the merciless treatment.

Sparks sang in the tinted Mercedes and Henry's eyes narrowed as he fought to make out just what the maniac was doing. The next second the villain had zoomed in front of them, speeding for the edge of the bridge.

"I think he's lighting a unique sort of bomb," Henry guessed in a croak.

"No, it can't be," Sarah whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.

"It's a CBU-72 Fuel Air Explosive," Jeremy echoed hoarsely, coaxing the accelerator a bit more without nudging it to over-heat. The speed dial inched over 100 miles an hour.

"What?" Henry asked slowly, convinced that this bomb was extremely horrible, based by the older man's expression.

"This cluster bomb is different from all the others. It's an extremely destructive incendiary bomb, rather than a shrapnel bomb, sometimes compared to a mini-nuke.

"It's used to detonate minefields, to destroy aircraft parked in the open - and also to burn the occupants alive in armored vehicles, and to burn alive or suffocate people taking shelter in bunkers or over demolished city areas where people may be hiding in basements and rubble.

"The bomb is made up of three separate bomblets dispensing an aerosol fuel cloud across the target area. As the fuel cloud descends to the ground it is ignited by an embedded detonator to produce what the U.S. military calls "an impressive explosion," which sucks out all the oxygen over an extended area.

"The rapidly expanding wave front due to overpressure flattens all objects and burns all people alive within close proximity of the epicenter of the aerosol fuel cloud. It also produces "debilitating damage" well beyond the flattened area from oxygen deprivation," Jeremy gasped, searching for an extraordinary amount of oxygen to fill his totally flattened lungs.

"So, pretty much, it's going to nuke the bridge and us in a matter of seconds," Henry summarized, inhaling sharply as the driver nodded seriously.

"Henry, you've got to jump, now," Jeremy responded, devoid of any emotion. He peeled the van to the right until it was screeching against the metal handrail of the bridge. "Sarah, go with him."

The woman nodded, in no position to doubt her bosses authority, but Henry shook his head almost automatically, "I won't leave you, sir."

"Unless you want all of us to die then you'd better do as I say!" Mr. Torante growled, spinning in his seat to shoot the blonde haired boy a tough glare.

Finally, with a long pause, Henry nodded. The speed dial climbed up to 110 mph.

Just then something caught the light, shimmering as the object ascended towards the heavens. At the end of the bridge, more like a block away, the villain stood, clutching an empty fire-arm in his hands, a victorious smirk gracing his face. He'd just fired the bomb into the air and any second the lives of thousands of people would end.

"JUMP!" Jeremy screamed, the accelerator groaning in protest as it reached 120.

Grasping Sarah's hand in his, Henry flung open the passenger door, wincing as it caught against the bridge's handrail, snapping off immediately. The smoke nearly blinded him but he managed to see an opening in the cross-beams just a few feet away.

When they reached it, Henry jumped, losing Sarah's iron hard grip as they flung through the air. The young woman's piercing screams died away, followed by a smash, and the adolescent stretched his arm out, grasping the edge of the handrail just as the bomb connected with the exact center of the national monument.

For a second there was nothing. And they, it was like all hell had erupted.

Flames shot upward as a thunderous roar erupted, like Hades himself was screeching in defiance towards his Olympian brothers. A _boom _shook the bridge and slowly, the support beams began to shudder and then bend with the strain. Massive fissures crept at a thousands miles per second across the concrete, opening up humongous craters in the originally sound structure. And then, the center of the bridge snapped and each half began its immediate ascent towards Poseidon's waters.

Screams split the air as dozens of car rolled, smashed and detonated before sinking into the ocean abyss; children were howling while mothers and father shared their last moments.

Another _boom _echoed and Henry bit back a scream of agony as his flesh began to sizzle. _I'm burning alive. _

"Goodbye, Maggie," he whispered, tears stinging his eyes as he wondered what his best friend was being subjected to.

And then, he let go, tumbling through the air before crashing into the sprawling waves.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

**_I know you're probably all furious with me now for leaving you with TWO humongous cliffhangers, but I wanted to. Otherwise my story would be boring and nobody would read it. Anyways, I tried to explain all the guns and the bombs; I looked them up briefly before adding them into the chapter so I can't exactly say I'm an expert. I'm really the opposite, actually; violence sickens me and exhilarates me at the same time._**

**_Please, please review because I really want your honest input before I continue on with the next part._**

**_- mktoddsparky_**


	9. Part Eight

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

* * *

*******Beware; this chapter will contain graphic content. Don't like it? Skip it*******

_**Hey everyone! I know, I know, you probably don't want to listen to me ramble because you want to find out what happens to Maggie and Henry. So, if you don't want to read this intro first then read the chapter and then come back to it!**_

_**Anyways, Sunburst6548 sent me this message and it totally inspired me. So, I wanted to share it with you. Here it is:**_

**I have to start off by saying that this is an amazing story...one of the best I have read in a long time! I found myself reading it at work this morning, instead of doing my work. I love the plot and the interaction of the characters (I'm a huge Henry/Maggie fan).**

I do have to say that things seem to be moving a little quickly, and I really really really hope that you aren't planning an ending any time soon. Like I've said before, you have such an amazing plot and I really hope you expand this story and make it in to a long one. There are so many additional things that you could put these characters through. I would personally love to see them end up on the run together, and maybe even in a few different countries (Maggie could get a small taste of how Henry lived, and I'm sure your bad guy has friends all over the place...right?)

I'm sorry for the long review, but this story has the potential to be epic and I hope you make it so. Your writing style is great (there are a few typos but nothing major) and I absolutely cannot wait for your next update! I'm in love with this story! :)

_**So when she wrote this I got an idea but it will drag the story on a little longer. I wanted your guys opinion on this; more than likely I'm going to extend the story anyways because I love getting my favorite couple into trouble but if you all totally absolutely hate it then I'll reconsider. **_

_**Well, thanks for reading that. Now, if you haven't already read the chapter because you couldn't wait, read it now. I'm serious. Go on, nobody needs you here! Haha, I'm just kidding, I love you guys :D**_

* * *

_In art and dream may you proceed with abandon. In life may you proceed with balance and __stealth__.__ – _Patti Smith

_TAKE: To acquire, frequently by force but preferably by __stealth_. – Ambrose Bierce

_Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.__ – Frederick Buechner _

* * *

**P A R T / E I G H T **

* * *

Maggie was running.

Sprinting would probably be a more accurate direct object, actually.

The brunette's converse pounded sporadically against the cold concrete walkways as she attempted to find her way out of this maze. If you've ever been locked in a tiny closet with knifes pointing at you then you might understand the panic that was slowly upturning the young woman's analytical focus.

_You'll never make it out alive, _voices seemed to be whispering, echoing from every corridor and chorusing from the handful of jutting hallways.

Maggie shivered, pulling the peach-colored robe tighter around her half-frozen form. Maybe it was just the fear talking, but her body felt like it was about to spasm and collapse on the chilly ground from lack of warmth.

Surpassing a jut in the dimly lit path the brunette gulped audibly, nearly screaming as her tense gaze flickered over a gruesome picture on the stone wall. It depicted first a man that looked suspiciously like Jasper at age 25 walking along his merry way; however, that happiness was quickly sapped as the next painting showed the very same man lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. A knife pierced the left side of his slightly hairy chest where his heart should have been beating consistently.

"I miss you, Jasper," Maggie remarked with a sad sigh, running her fingers over the portrait on the crude stone embankment.

Just thinking about the brunette sent the girl into a flurry of diverse emotions; she'd developed a small crush on the former back in ninth grade, although she would have never admitted that to the supposed super student. It was probably just puppy love, she entertained shortly, running a shaky hand through her poker straight brown locks. Although her heart had managed to skip a few beats whenever Jasper entered a room she could have never imagine kissing him. The concept had been somewhat intriguing but mainly gross.

So why did it feel like she was betraying him whenever Henry touched her and an indescribable passion filled her heart and soul?

"Stop acting like such a girl…" Maggie hissed under her breath, mentally slugging herself in the upper arm.

_But I am a girl._

Just then the sound of scuffling feet echoed from a few hallways back. Maggie bit her bottom lip hard to repress a shriek as a familiar voice crooned blood-curdling statements towards her.

"I know you're here, Miss Winnock," Jehav lilted, scraping the edge of his knife against the stone wall. A shriek resonated around the underground space eerily. "Don't bother trying to hide from me."

The brunette couldn't bring herself to utter a word.

"I admit I was amused by your little feat back with Demi. You have _fantastic _hand-eye coordination," the murderer complimented.

"You s-saw that?" Maggie whispered and immediately Jehav's head and torso shifted to where he heard her voice emit from. A sardonic smirk twisted his lips drastically and suddenly his dark orbs didn't seem so humorous anymore.

"Of course, I have security cameras rigged up all over my headquarters," the man explained, his eyes narrowing slightly as he peered north towards the slab of rock behind which the brunette was hiding. "You know, once I'm done violating you, I might just keep you around as a bodyguard. What do you say to that, precious?"

Maggie hesitated. For a second a scenario panned in front of her glazed vision, promising that if she just let him have his way with her then she could live. Henry could find her and they could escape. _But Henry told me to fight…I can't just give up!_

"We'll deal with that proposition later, hmm?" Jehav eluded smoothly, his lips parting over his gleaming teeth. "Did you hear the news about your boyfriend, Henry?"

"He's not my boyfriend," the young woman replied harshly, gritting her teeth as an image of the blonde headed adolescence blossomed in her mind. "Henry and boyfriend-land is somewhere I will _never_ go," she insisted, smiling slightly as she recalled telling Tamba the exact same thing several months ago.

Except a couple months ago she'd actually meant it.

"Very well, I suppose you won't mind then if I tell you my minion…err…disposed of Mr. Griffin." Jehav told her, repressing a slithery chuckle.

"W-what?" Maggie's face grew white and she pressed against the stone wall. _He's lying; Henry would never allow himself to be killed…_

"You want the details, I see," the murderer responded appreciatively, shifting his footing and rubbing his hands vigorously together. "Well, Henry and some of his little incompetent cohorts were crossing the Golden Gate Bridge and I had my best man Rich toss a CBU-72 Fuel Air Explosive at em'. They were blasted into the Pacific along with thousands of innocent people!" Jehav supplied joyfully.

It was sickening to consider the fact that this man actually loved watching individuals perish.

"So, what do you say to becoming my newest minion, Margaret?" The scoundrel wondered plaintively.

The fact that he said her full name was the last straw. Maggie could vividly still remember Henry mentioning once how hard it was for him to stand back when her and Jasper were being tortured and disabled; he'd illustrated the near psychotic rage that overpowered his system and that he had to fight excruciatingly hard to suppress it.

The brunette had never believed that she could be capable of holding this kind of psychotic abyss in her heart, until now.

_Jasper's dead, my dad is dead, my mom is in a coma, my house is non-existent and now Henry is dead. I'm all alone and it's all this man's fault. _

"Burn in hell, asshole," Maggie spat out, spinning away from the wall and facing the murderer.

There was no fear in her now. Only ominous intent and anger…so, so much anger that it was practically tearing her apart from the inside.

Jehav stood like a statue mere feet from Maggie and yet he didn't flinch a muscle at her sudden exclamation. "You can't beat me, dollface," he reported with a wink, his hand stretching out to capture her wrist; he squeezed a little too tightly and the brunette snapped into action.

Her foot launched out, connecting with his gut and although a grimace distorted his face for a moment he didn't let go. Instead, he only gripped the bone a little tighter until Maggie was squirming with discomfort.

"I already told you, you can't win," Jehav whispered hauntingly, his dark brown orbs so cold that Maggie had to look away.

Ignoring the warning, the young woman's arm shot out, her clenched fist preparing to connect with his soft cheek, but the murderer's other hand stopped the attack. He smirked.

"I'm not as easy as Demi, would you agree?" He laughed to himself, shooting her a furtive glance before twisting her left wrist so hard that she cried out.

"You killed both of my best friends!" Maggie roared, her right foot jabbing upward in a last attempt to escape. It connected with the fork between his legs and Jehav released her wrist with a grunt of pain, falling to his knees.

Maggie turned to run in any which direction might lead to safety but the murderer's finger closed around the hem of her jeans, leaving her to sprawl face-first onto the ground. As the brunette's head connected with the ground she let out a sharp ringing cry, covering her face in her hands as rocks lanced deep cuts across her forehead and cheeks. Blood began to seep from the wounds, the scent metallic, like a rusty penny.

"Bitch!" Jehav swore, his foot pounding in between the young woman's shoulder blades. Agony laced up Maggie's spine and she bit back a yelp, fighting the growing urge to break down and weep. A swift kick to the girl's ankle sent a tear riveting down next to her nose; by the amount of pain throbbing in the skin above her foot she guessed that it was at least a nasty sprain, if not worse.

Grabbing the back of the robe and pulling it off her, Jehav thrust the unsuspecting victim into the stone wall, laughing as she screamed. Her bra covered up her chest nicely, leaving enough cleavage to drive the hormonal adult insane. Her polka-dotted panties outlined her lower curves just right yet restrained him from seeing too much.

Maggie bit down on the adult's beefy hand, hard, wincing as he yelled and then punched her flat in the neck, knocking the air out of her. As she was still recovering from the numerous blows Jehav leaned closer, dropping a trail of kisses down her jaw line and neck.

"No!" The brunette pushed him off, her chocolate orbs lit up with obscene fear yet fierce determination. _Henry would have wanted me to fight. So, I'll fight and die trying to stop this horrible man._

So she fought. She fought hard, but it just wasn't enough.

He was too powerful.

And after it was done he stood there and watched her sob, chuckling mirthfully to himself.

He didn't kill her because he wanted to use her. He didn't kill her because he wanted to pleasure himself.

But he did things to her that made her wish she was dead.

* * *

Henry's nearly lifeless body floated to the surface of the water and shivering, the adolescent spit out the water consuming his system. Gasps and little _hics _emitted hoarsely from his lips until he couldn't talk anymore; his voice was entirely gone.

A car, bruised and busted up beyond compare, floated like a war memorial just inches from the blonde haired male's face, the occupants of the vehicle still within. The bodies were blackened and bloodied, not to mention totally unrecognizable.

Henry's shaking arms extended, his trembling fingers gripping at the door of the car and, with a massive effort, he pulled himself slightly on top of the vehicle. That simple little action sent his mind into a spin and the young man's head thumped down on the dented exterior.

Several minutes simply passed in which Henry could do nothing but gaze blankly in front of him, his face blanched beyond belief. He could clearly see the extremities of the horrific accident around him, could almost touch the sinking bodies and fuming cars, but he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to comprehend that a national monument had been blown up.

And then, his glance happened to dart downwards. His whole world seemingly crumbled in front of his eyes.

His parents. Lying in a car so mashed up that it was almost unidentifiable. The only reason that Henry could detect just who those poor two souls were was because, well, there was no bomb wounds leftover. His mom and dad were perfectly untouched, other than the knives protruding from each of their chests.

"It's a warning," the diverse young man accepted, turning his face away from the man and woman who'd taught him everything he knew. A tear slipped down his cheek and then vanished into the ocean where it melded with millions of other tears just like his.

For a long while Henry allowed himself to silently grieve; he didn't often cry and even when the reluctant tears squeezed out the blonde wouldn't stoop to screaming to the sky. He would address the heart-wrenching issue with acceptance, peace and maturity.

"I'm so sorry, mom and dad," Henry whispered, glancing back at his parents one last time and memorizing their familiar features. "I didn't think they'd kill you this soon…I would have protected you."

The car on which he was perched on continued to drift steadily along in the rippling current, soon leaving Mr. and Mrs. Griffin to sink down into the depths. Hopefully Poseidon would grace them with golden dishes and an extravagant excavation site.

Henry turned to look at the devastation the murderers had recently committed, his disbelieving hazel orbs highlighting the burning halves of the Golden Gate Bridge and the remains of thousands of cars strewn amidst the desecrated monument. Various altitudes of alarms shrieked within every destroyed vehicle, sending the blonde's head to pounding.

But one car in particular caught the teen's acute attention.

The black Mercedes left stretching skid marks on the remains of the bridge as it zoomed in obtuse circles. The driver, Rich, had left the tinted window rolled down and Henry could, unfortunately, make out the victorious smirk lifting the corners of the villains lips.

Suddenly, Henry's hazel orbs widened slightly, connecting with the trunk of the Mercedes as it came to a harsh stop by the edge of the water. Rich stepped out, slamming the driver's door shut mercilessly as he stalked off, pulling out his shimmering silver cell phone. The engine of the vehicle was still running, which meant the keys had been left in the ignition.

"I won't let you down," the adolescent whispered to the souls of his dead parents.

Sliding into the current, he shivered briefly as the chilly tang of the ocean waves sapped the warmth from his skin before beginning to paddle in the direction of the shore. The water lapped at his body like a puppy's tongue, soothing the brave swimmer, when just minutes ago it'd been a whirlwind of demolition, sucking in countless lives without repentance.

Memories of the blonde haired boy's parents resurfaced as Henry continued to fight the growing waves: the hikes through the Conocranra and Huascaran mountains in Peru, the photography experience at the volcano on the Kamchatka peninsula in Russia, a flight to the ruins of the Temple of Artemis, goddess of the hunt, in present day Turkey and so much more.

Now there would be no more trips with his role models, Henry commiserated.

Then again, Henry always had felt like a Weaver Ant, from the genus Oecophylla, under his parent's immense shadow. He could specifically recall the trio's trip to a recent excavation sight back in Washington D.C when he'd uncovered a murder mystery; even with all the recognition the young man had seriously doubted his worthiness and rarity to his parent's cause.

Finally Henry reached the nearest shore, his whole body shaking with fatigue. The brief rest upon the dented car had revitalized the young man somewhat but he still longed for a good night's sleep. _But I won't rest until I rescue Maggie. If she's still alive. _

Rich was still pacing several feet away from the tinted Mercedes and so, with a stabilizing breath, Henry bent into a crouch, creeping stealthily towards the front door. He was only a few inches away from the keys now and they glistened eerily in the fading daylight, enticing him to come quicker.

The minion's voice was quickly becoming heated. "I told you, I've finished him!" He yelled furiously.

The individual on the other end of the line screamed a paragraph's worth of words combined with a multitude of profanities and Rich's face whitened with fear.

"Well you should have told me that you wanted Griffin alive before I disposed of his corpse!" The minion retaliated and without another hesitation Henry reached up and pressed a button on the keys.

The trunk popped open with a swish.

Just as Henry was about to pop up and hide away in the back of the villain's car, however, he saw Rich's head turn suspiciously in the direction of his Mercedes.

"One second, boss, I thought I heard something," the minion mumbled, his body stumbling in the direction of the flat roofed vehicle.

The tang of booze in Rich's car easily signified that the older man had been drinking and the blonde haired teen certainly didn't want to be at the other end of that rage.

Backpedaling as quickly as possible Henry inhaled sharply before plugging his nose and shifting onto the toes of his boots. Once he reached the slightly gaping trunk the boy dove into the sweaty abyss of the back of the car without any second thoughts. Any hesitation would result in his termination.

The adolescent quickly reached for a ratty blanket that'd been discarded in the truck, tossing it over his huddled form before ducking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. The footsteps echoed gravely against the gravel as Rich headed towards the rear of his fancy ride.

Henry zeroed his mind in on one memory that he knew he'd cherish forever; the monks he'd trained with over many years in the past had equally instructed that in situations such as this, one should focus one's conscious in order to slow the heartbeat and breathing.

The image was of Maggie and his parents; two months ago, after they'd apologized for missing the Parent Welcome brunch, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin had spent the weekend in sunny DC, hanging out with their son on every possible occasion. Of course, their definition of fun had always resided in studying hieroglyphics in a lab, whereas Henry wanted to be out in the world uncovering murders and the like.

To Henry's surprise, however, Maggie had taken a great interest in the hieroglyphic unscrambling his parents had been working on that weekend. After he'd introduced the attractive brunette to his laid back folks the three of them had hit it off instantly, burrowing in the DOUM wing's lab until the crack of dawn every 24 hours.

Henry could still vividly recall Maggie giggling at something his mother had stated and then bantering in return. It was the happiest he'd seen his best friend in such a long time and even though he didn't realize his intimate feelings for the brunette then he'd still experienced a warm feeling in his heart. Maybe he'd liked Maggie even then, though; he just hadn't been aware of it.

Rich's footsteps were still crunching in the dirt as he neared the trunk but Henry was totally in the zone. All the blonde could picture now behind his sealed eyelids was Maggie's smile and her laugh.

He'd do anything to put the joy back on his best friend's face.

Rich snorted as he spotted the popped trunk and then, with a disgusted grimace, he slammed shut the door, locking Henry in a dark pit with no hope of a present escape.

Henry relaxed into the itchy carpet material of the trunk, jumping as the engine roared to life and the Mercedes shot off to who knows where. All the young man could hope and pray was that Rich was heading for the _Hilabiti's _main headquarters; if not, the blonde was doomed.

A picture popped to mind: one of Jeremy Torante and Sarah Voltez and Henry found himself swallowing back a mound of guilt. They had willingly put themselves in the line of danger, had driven onto the bridge even when they knew they were probably about to die. They'd aided in his search for Maggie and had died helping him.

A mumble distracted the teenager and Henry strained his ear as a ring tone went off in the front seat.

"What?" Rich snapped. There was a pause, probably the person on the other end replying.

"I was on my way to Washington…wait, why do I have to come to headquarters? This isn't fair!" The minion whined like a toddler.

Another moment passed and Henry pressed his ear tighter against the edge of the trunk, desperate to make out just what the two were conversing about.

"Oh, she's still alive?"

That caught Henry's attention. "Maggie," he whispered dully before returning his intense attention back to Rich.

"Was she good? Did she fight you?" Rich laughed, the sound sending chills up and down Henry's spine.

"Ah, I love the girls that fight. It makes stealing their innocence so much more enjoyable," the villain agreed, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

One more pause, and in that moment Henry understood just what they were talking about. His hazel orbs saturated with moisture, sympathy blossoming for his best friend and the torture she'd been through. "They stole your virginity," he whispered, horrorstruck.

"Yeah…yeah, fine, I'm coming, don't get your antibacterial underpants in a knot," Rich mocked, flipping his phone shut and pressing down on the accelerator.

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose as his lips trembled, droplets threatening to spill from his eyes. Fury began to overpower every other rational emotion, dominating his normally peace-centered chakra, fury over what those bastards were doing to his best friend.

"I'm coming, Mags, just hold on a little longer," Henry whispered, his tone thick with emotion. _I'm going to save you Maggie. I'm so sorry for what they did to you. _

* * *

Maggie lay motionless on a round table slightly tilted so that the whole audience could see her nude form. Whip marks covered her pale flesh and blood streamed from the fresh wounds, forcing groans of agony from the brunette's lips.

She struggled once more to release her arms and legs from the ropes that restrained her, to no avail. Pushing back tears the young woman's frosty gaze met the intrigued and lust filled glances of the men and women gathered. She would not cry to sate their hunger for pain; she would never give her captors that satisfaction.

Maggie's struggles doubled in intensity as Jehav crept up to the stage, clutched a bulky wrap in his arms. After setting down the mysterious object the murderer turned to the members of the _Hilabiti_, a sly smirk drifting onto his pursed, cracked lips.

"Tonight, brothers and sisters, we bring you the final sacrifice. For hundreds of years we have combed the Earth for the daughter of Artemis, a direct descendant of Adolf Hitler, in order to shed her blood. Ares waits eagerly for this special girl and tonight he has beguiled Artemis to bless us with a full moon. We have brought you the sacred one!" His crooked finger pointed at Maggie.

Maggie's eyes widened as she dissolved his words into the most basic sense. For some reasons unknown the _Hilabiti_ believed that they could not possess the gift of true power in the war and in the hunt without the blessings of Artemis and Ares.

The only way to obtain these special powers, however, was to offer up a human sacrifice of one who was blessed with Aphrodite's dazzling beauty, Athena's divine wisdom, Artemis' blessing and Hitler's lineage. There was only one woman in history who could endow all of these traits, so legend stated. These individuals gathered here honestly believed that she, Maggie, was the sacred one. And if so, she was going to die in a brutal massacre of her body tonight.

Jehav reached for the nearest whip, winding it around his arms a few times before lashing it out and letting the tip connect with Maggie's stomach. The brunette winced, biting back a scream as the whip landed once more, and then again, the wounds smarting terribly. The strokes slowly lost meaning to the young woman as she fell into an abyss of agony.

Finally, the lashes ceased and Jehav's voice rang out once more, powerful and fearless. "Tonight," he stated calmly, "we are going to rise to our full potential. After tonight, we will be unstoppable. This is what our forefather, Hitler, would have wanted. Hail Hitler!" He raised his arm in the proper salute to the dead tyrant.

Breaking his disturbingly alive gaze from the audience Jehav's long, bony fingers closed around the dull white package, unwrapping it slowly and precisely.

Maggie's breath caught in her throat. The object hidden just moments before was an axe, the head splattered with dried blood.

Jehav turned to the brunette, cupping the axe gently in his two hands as he stepped musingly in the girl's direction. His insane gaze turned upward and he began mumbling phrases in ancient German; Maggie could barely decipher it.

"Ach sammeln, Vater Hitler, heute Abend diese demütigen Mitglieder in Vorahnung einer alten Prophezeiung erfüllt zu warden.

(Oh, Father Hitler, tonight these humble members gather in anticipation of an ancient prophecy being fulfilled).

"Für heute Abend, Vater, wir opfern das heilige, die Frau, die die Priester von unserer Reihenfolge erzählt hat, dass uns kommen würden. Ihr Haar fließt, wie ein Wasserfall und ihre schokoladen braunen Augen mit Leben schimmern. Aber wenn die Axt fällt, wird ihr Leben nein mehr sein und die Prophezeiung wird erfüllt warden."

(For tonight, Father, we sacrifice the sacred one, the woman that the priests of our order told us would come. Her hair flows like a waterfall and her chocolate brown eyes shimmer with life. But when the axe falls her life will be no more and the prophecy will be fulfilled).

"Bitte mein Herr, lässt die Wörter des Prophezeiungsrings wahr. Lassen Sie die Knochen in unseren Körpern wachsen riesig, lassen Sie uns zu neun Füße groß wachsen. Wir werden unschlagbar sein und keine Angst wird je unsere Herzen eintragen."

(Please, my lord, let the words of the prophecy ring true. Let the bones in our bodies grow huge, let us grow to nine feet tall. We will be invincible and no fear will ever enter our hearts).

"Jetzt mit Ihrer Segnung, Allmächtig Einer, lässt uns das heilige zu ihrem Tod verurteilen und nimmt unsere ewigen Geschenke an. Kann die Götter annehmen dieses demütige Angebot."

(Now, with your blessing, Almighty One, let us condemn the sacred one to her death and accept our eternal gifts. May the gods accept this humble offering).

Tears were seeping down Maggie's face, soaking her eyelashes with excess droplets, as Jehav slid the blade of the blood encrusted knife across her wrists, leaving thin cuts. He repeated the process with her ankles and then with her shoulders and knees. After gashes had been slit into the brunette's cheeks the murderer pressed the blade against Maggie's neck for a brief moment before raising it in the air.

"Henry, help me, please," Maggie whispered, her chocolate brown orbs sliding shut as she prepared for the fatal blow. Tears streaked her cheeks and jaw line and her hair was all mussed up but at the present moment she didn't care.

She just pictured her best friend's face in her mind: his flat blonde hair, his warm hazel orbs, his accentuated muscles, everything. The thought of never seeing him again frightened her beyond belief. _Goodbye…_

The axe fell.

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

**Aren't I just so incredible infuriating, with all these cliffhangers? **

_**Now before you get all furious with me just remember that nothing is as it seems. All I'm going to say other than that is that there was a definite time difference between when Henry clambered in the trunk of the Mercedes and when Maggie was tied to the elevated table. 'Nuff said, don't you think?**_

_**Review and I'll update faster! Just a little hint there, in case you wanted to see what happens next. :D**_

_**-mktoddsparky**_


	10. Part Nine

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

* * *

_**Hey everyone! I hope that this chapter sates your appetite for some good Henry/Maggie interaction. It's about to get global (hint, hint, yeah, I know you don't get it, but I do).**_

_Tell them, that, to ease them of their griefs, their fear of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, their pangs of love, with other incident throes, that nature's fragile vessel doth sustain, in life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them. – _Shakespeare

_Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution. – _Kahlil Gibran

_No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave  
No matter how many breaths that you took you still couldn't breathe  
No matter how many nights did you lie  
__wide awake to the sounds of the pausing rain  
Where did you go? Where did you go? Where did you go?  
As days go by the nights are on fire_

Tell me would you kill to save for a life?  
Tell me would you kill to prove you're right?  
Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn  
This hurricane's chasing us all underground

No matter how many deaths that I die, I will never forget  
No matter how many lives that I live, I will never regret  
There's a fire inside of this heart in a riot about to explode into flames  
Where is your God? Where is your God? Where is your God?

Do you really want...do you really want me?  
Do you really want me dead or alive to torture for my sins?  
Do you really want...do you really want me?  
Do you really want me dead, or alive to live a lie?

Tell me would you kill to save for a life?  
Tell me would you kill to prove you're right?  
Crash, crash, burn, let it all burn  
This hurricane's chasing us all underground

The promises we made were not enough  
The prayers that we had prayed were like a drug  
The secrets that we sold were never known  
The Love we had, The Love we had, we had to let it go

-Lyrics to Hurricane by 30 Seconds to Mars

* * *

**P A R T / N I N E**

* * *

Rain was falling, pouring in drifts so thick that the dark skinned population could barely make out the bark of the sacred Baobab tree, otherwise known as the Kalpataru medicinal plant.

The inhabitants of the tiny slum just outside of Mumbai gathered under their leader's tent, their brown orbs wide with fear. The sky streaked with lightning, thunder rumbling along after every electrical flash.

"I have not seen a storm like this since the first falling of the Kalpataru tree many years ago," Nirmayi exclaimed softly, crossing her fingers over one another and bowing her head in prayer to the gods.

Aadinath, the leader of the tribe, turned slowly in the direction of the gracious Indian mother, smiling seriously, "Ah, Nirmayi, one without blemish, I have spoken to the gods and they tell me that no harm will befall our humble abodes."

"Thank the gods," Aadinath's wife and queen Alopa whispered, kneeling to kiss the ground by her king's feet.

"Yes, we thank the gods with our whole heart," Nirmayi echoed, turning to glance down at her daughters Nirupama and Amala. Only the former wasn't present.

The Indian woman's face whitened as her wide eyes probed her younger daughter, her trembling fingers fighting to brush back the hair from Amala's brow, "Where is your sister, young one?"

"Gone," Amala mumbled, tears rushing to fill the dancing brown innocent gaze.

"Where?" The mother demanded, shaking her daughter a little.

Amala pointed at the Kalpataru tree, tears moistening her lifted cheekbones, "The spirit of the sacred tree has swallowed my sister whole."

Nirmayi let out a blood-curdling scream as she rushed towards the Baobab tree, breaking down in hopeless sobs as she saw her eldest daughter being swallowed by the sacred plant. A shiny knife was embedded in the girl's chest and the word _Hilabiti _was etched into the muddy earth. Blood tinged the inscription, fresh blood, the sacrifice of the young girl lying dead in the tree.

* * *

Shakira's manager Betty Lou skirted the trailer area, her professional expression darkening slightly with worry. The pop star hadn't been seen in over a half-hour; she'd gone missing right in the middle of her New York concert and now the crowd mumbled uneasily.

"C'mon, where the hell are you?" The stressed middle-aged woman grunted, flipping back her flaming auburn locks as she stomped towards the highly popular singer's makeup trailer.

As she flung open the popstar's door she got ready to deliver an episode of curses, only to stop dead in her tracks and let out a piercing yell.

Shakira lay on the ground, her arms and legs spread in an eagle pattern and her blonde curly hair spread behind her like a barrage of golden infusion. A knife had been driven right into her heart and blood still flowed sluggishly out of the gaping wound.

_You're next _a note on the dead woman's stomach read, signed: _Hilabiti. _

Betty Lou swooned, collapsing on the ground with a dull thud. A moment later the shimmer of a slashing knife drove the life out of her and blood splattered the carpet.

If only these two had known how many more would die in this tragic implosion, maybe they would have been more careful.

* * *

All around the world television news broadcasts and radio shows blared the frightening installment of the recent terrorist attacks.

_8__62 dead so far, _the reporter could be heard stating grimly, _and countless innocents continue to disappear from the face of the Earth every day. _

_In recent news, superstar Shakira was found dead in her makeup trailer along with her manager and three assistants. When will these horrific attacks cease? Or will our world continue to deal with these constant global threats. _The reporter didn't sound too certain that anything would change for the better.

The camera panned in on a live filming from Mumbai where hundreds of Indians were gathered to mourn the death of their leaders Aadinath and Alopa; the scene changed to Iran a moment later where dozens of corpses lined the streets, blood seeping from stab wounds in their chests.

_A dark time has fallen over mankind and it seems highly unlikely that this cloud of terrorism will ever disintegrate. _The reporter nodded, his lifeless orbs gazing strictly at the invisible audience.

All over the world, men, woman and children wept. TVs flickered off and radios were slammed to pieces by their owners.

They were scared of the future, scared of losing their loved ones, scared of these unspoken massacres.

They did not have hope. They did not think that anything would ever improve.

And perhaps they were right.

* * *

Tears were seeping down Maggie's face, soaking her eyelashes with excess droplets, as Jehav slid the blade of the blood encrusted knife across her wrists, leaving thin cuts. He repeated the process with her ankles and then with her shoulders and knees. After gashes had been slit into the brunette's cheeks the murderer pressed the blade against Maggie's neck for a brief moment before raising it in the air.

The axe fell.

Maggie inwardly screamed, waiting for the unendurable pain to hit her before the blackness would close in and sweep her away into the abyss of death.

But the agony never erupted.

As the brunette's eyelids fluttered hesitantly open her chocolate orbs widened first in shock and then momentary delight.

Henry gripped the blade of the axe tighter in between his hands, wincing as it cut into his flesh and left crooked gashes in his palms. Digging his heels into the stone tile the blonde pushed back the murderer with a sharp hiss, his foot launching out and connecting with Jehav's face before the latter could recover.

Jehav's crimson streaked orbs grew misty with utter disbelief, "Y-you can't be alive. My minion pushed you off the Golden Gate Bridge and blew your body to bits!"

"Apparently there were some flaws in your plan," Henry responded too quietly, the kind of intensity that only occurs when one is battling fierce rage. "Now, why don't you act like a man and fight me yourself?"

Maggie shuddered convulsively in her bonds as Henry kicked just inches from the older man's face and Jehav attempted to snag the blonde's ankle; the young woman's ankle still ached heavily from when her rapist had tripped her down in the storage unit.

But unlike his best friend, Henry reacted quickly enough by doing a switchback, the toe of his right foot connecting with the murderer's rear end.

"You think of yourself as some sort of champion, eh?" Jehav snarled, a smirk emerging on his pale lips as he grabbed a samurai sword from the row of torture instruments just behind him. The beefy fingers of his left hand closed around the hilt of the jagged blade and instantly he swept it towards the blonde haired adolescent.

Henry jumped backwards several inches, the edge of his hip momentarily pressing against Maggie's stomach before he moved. The simple touch sent shudders wracking the young woman's body, memories of that horrible night resurfacing:

"_I want to hear you scream my name," Jehav crooned as he pressed further into her. Pain erupted within the brunette's body and she fought back a shriek, tears streaming down her face. _

"_Never," she hissed, screaming as her rapist slit the side of her wrist with his knife. The fresh blood spilled over her bruised skin, the crimson spectacle a grisly reminder of who was really in charge here. _

Henry scissor-kicked, blocking the first side-slash of the sharp blade, his torso twisting as he jumped, flipping in a fantastic imitation of an acrobat over the murderer's head before landing smoothly. His fist connected with the side of Jehav's face and the latter gagged, spitting out several teeth.

"Just for that, when I kill you, I'm going to violate your little friend here three-fold," Jehav muttered furiously, striking out with the blade again. The flat of the weapon smacked into Henry's shoulder and the young man retreated several steps, his hazel orbs flashing with intensity.

"_Your Henry is dead and he's never coming back," Jehav whispered, kissing Maggie's cheeks and chuckling to himself as she bit back a shriek of terror. "You're all mine…"_

"_And if I refuse?" She suggested, barely able to force out the words. Droplets soaked her face, still squeezing out of her tear-ducts. "Will you kill me?"_

"_Why would I kill you when I can just torture you night after night?" He countered, slamming into her more furiously than ever. _

Members of the secret society were rushing chaotically in every possible direction, running into the stone walls and attempting to dig their way out. Somehow a keg of gun-powder had been tossed onto the stage and as Jehav and Henry fought on the former knocked over a candle burning on the altar.

As the flickering flame hit the black specks on the floor smoke began to billow, expanding as fire shot out, incasing the trio in nearly unbearable heat. One spark jumped to the wooden table that Maggie was tied too and started eating away at the rough circle.

"Henry!" The brunette choked out, narrowing her eyelids to the point of slits as the grey mist throttled her normally keen senses.

The culturally-diverse male craned his head in the direction of his best friend, fighting panic as he noted the fire slowly creeping towards the young woman, "I'm coming, Mags."

"Not if I kill you first," Jehav insisted, swinging the axe in a wide arch and nearly carving off his opponent's head.

Henry retaliated with a foot to the villain's gut followed by several punches in the huffing man's face. Jehav screamed girlishly as he stumbled directly into the path of the gun-powder, flames creeping up the edge of his stylish purple cape, the color of the rich.

But the blonde haired adolescent didn't back off; he simply pressed Jehav further into the growing fire until the adult's body was nearly consumed by the flames. Agonized screams resonated around the temple as Jehav was slowly devoured by the fire, but not before he glanced knowingly at someone.

"Curse you…" Jehav whispered hoarsely, crawling in the direction of the only door. His legs had been completely charred off and both arms were cut and bruised. His hair slowly siphoned around him, leaving his curved head shiny and completely bald.

Demi stood by the door, covered by the increasing shadows and as soon as Henry glanced in her direction she picked up the part of her boss that remained, carting him into safety; well, it would be safety until he died probably in a few hours at most. By the murderous gazes she'd been shooting Henry it was clear that she planned plotting the revenge of her master.

A click echoed dimly, reassuring the duo that the evil woman had indeed locked the only door to refuge.

They were trapped.

Henry turned in the brunette's direction, his eyes opening a little bigger as he noted the flames licking mere inches from Maggie's face. The incredibly adept woman ceased moving as Henry picked up a knife from the altar, working quickly to relieve his best friend of the bonds prohibiting her ligaments from moving. Maggie found herself biting back instinctive screams of terror as his arms brushed periodically against hers, the touches bringing with them flashes of what Jehav had done to her.

"_No boy will ever want to look at you after I'm done," the murderer chuckled darkly, pressing the blade against his prisoner's shoulders and slicing a deep gash down her left arm. _

Seeing as though the blonde was attempting frantically to free her, however, Maggie knew that it would only result in her gruesome incineration if she struggled. The skin of her left brow was beginning to sting as the hungry fire roared closer and closer to her hairline. In mere seconds she would be dead, eaten alive by the merciless force of nature.

Several more moments ticked by, each fraction of the minute hand creeping closer and closer to the end marker. Suddenly, Henry let out a victorious exclamation, pulling Maggie out of the way of harm just as the flames burst into a shower of sparks where her head had been but a millisecond beforehand.

Henry's arms snuck around the dark haired female's waist immediately and he hugged her into his chest, the act unconscious. Suddenly, he remembered what she'd been through and when Maggie pulled away, blotting away tears, it only confirmed the hunch.

"Mags, I –" The young man found himself stroking back her hair from her face. The girl swatted away his intruding hand with a strained glance in his direction.

"Please don't touch me…I'm s-sorry, I just can't h-handle it," Maggie mumbled almost incoherently. Two tears raced down her weathered jaw, splashing onto the cold, barren land with sodden splashes. "You have no idea what that bastard d-did to me!"

"I do," Henry remarked sadly, pulling her back as the flames leapt onto one of the support beams, the crackling noise growing in intensity. A few heartbeats later the beam gave a heaving groan and toppled over as serenely as a ballet dancer. The two teenagers found themselves backed into the wall, Maggie shaking her head in exasperation as Henry instinctively pressed her behind him. _He acts like I can't take care of myself. _

Every brush of their bare skin that ensured sent another shock wave through the analytical female. Her heart and her mind battled, her emotions insisting that Henry was her best friend…possibly more, and her scientific brain insisting that he was an imminent danger.

Fire danced up the rafters, raining down bits of glittering wood specks. One landed on Maggie's foot, igniting the plain, dark Converse she'd insisted on donning yesterday. Jasper's murderers had dug up these and forced her to try them on. When they'd fit nearly perfectly she'd snuck them away and hidden them for such an occasion as the one they were facing now.

Stamping her covered toes against the dingy gray floor beneath them Maggie managed to douse the tiny flame; her ankle gave an uncomfortable twinge in the action, though, and it took everything in her not to yell out or collapse, possibly both.

"We've got to get out of here!" She shouted above the sound of the rafters wobbling unsteadily above them. The heat singed her skin, sending spikes of agony wafting through her body and she knew that Henry must be experiencing similar phenomenon.

"I'm developing an escape plan in my mind, but it has to be perfect, or we'll perish in the flames," Henry responded in his zero-panoramic tone. He took a half-step back, accidently pressing closer against his best friend; she flinched over-dramatically, pushing him away from her in a desperate attempt to regain her sense of composure.

"_Why are you crying, darling?" Jehav sneered, pressing his slimy lips against hers, forcing his tongue inside her mouth where it squirmed around. _

_Maggie broke away a moment later, gasping for air, "Please…stop," she whispered. "I can't take it anymore."_

"_Scream my name; show me how bad it hurts!" The rapist murmured in a voice like priceless silk, pounding his hips against hers so hard that she was surprised hers didn't bruise horribly. _

_Maggie shrieked, over and over. It hurt so damn bad; it was like he was cutting her up from the inside out and she had no say in the matter. She could only lay there underneath him and allow him to hurt her. Because she wasn't strong enough, and Henry wasn't coming. Henry was dead and Jehav was going to rape her up until the point where she would commit suicide._

"_Ah, it's like music to my ears, your pain," Jehav whispered, running a hand down her chest and smirking as she shivered. _

Henry could only stare at his best friend, worry swirling in his gentle gaze. For once in his life he was powerless to do anything; Maggie was suffering because he hadn't been here in time and now all he could do was watch her, helpless, "I'm so sorry, I won't touch you again, I promise."

"Henry…" Maggie cried, tears blurring her vision for a moment before she blinked them hastily away. This mess was just something she would have to deal with later. Right now, they had to escape, and quick. Or otherwise, they would burn alive.

And that's when the way out caught her eye.

It was just a window, suspended twenty feet up in the air, a square pane cut into the stone walls of the headquarters. Flames encircled the beams around the glass rectangle and it was highly improbable that either one of them would get out of them alive, but they had to try.

"What do you see?" Henry questioned his best friend, following her gaze until his hazel orbs connected with the window.

"Will it work?" Maggie wondered bleakly, her face as pale as the approaching full moon.

"It might, but as far as I can tell we don't have any other choice." The boy put it bluntly, understanding that a logical map-out was what the brunette needed right about now. Otherwise she'd get two left feet and would probably trip and be devoured by the slurping flames.

"Let's go," she whispered, hobbling towards the staircase several feet away. The handrails were metal and as her fingers touched the left rail she winced, throwing her body back to the foot of the ascension with a hiss, "Ouch."

"Are you alright?" The male adolescent asked her immediately, following his best friend several paces back. He wanted to give her an appropriate amount of space and yet concern nearly overruled that first thought. Images of the brunette falling to her death below caused a shudder to run its course down his taut body.

"Yeah, I should have known that the handrails would have been heated to blistering degrees based on the magnitude of the fire," Maggie deducted, hitting her head lightly a couple times until the stars spun in her vision. "Stupid, stupid me."

"You're not stupid, Mags," Henry appeased her and relief brushed over him for a second as he caught the brunette smiling briefly. _She's still in there, I just have to find her. _

"Whatever," she mumbled harshly before taking the stairs slowly, grimacing every time her wounded foot made contact with the quivering platform. The stairs ended after one story, leaving another ten feet at least to go before the window would be in reach.

It was clear what they had to do but Maggie wasn't sure if her ankle could take it.

Henry clambered up beside the young woman, frowning a bit as he saw her wince and then glance down at her ankle, "What's wrong?"

"I…it's nothing, I mean…" Maggie stuttered, her face flushing a bright rosy red. "We have to climb the beams overhead to reach the window and it's really high..." She lied weakly.

"But you're not afraid of heights," the culturally tempered boy countered, the comment clearly bemused.

She paused to buy herself some time but by the look on her best friend's face she quickly figured she wasn't getting out of this one, "Jehav twisted my ankle when he…" She couldn't bear to say the word. But she didn't have to; Henry already understood and was fighting the urge to rip someone's head off.

_Jehav twisted my ankle when he raped me. _

"I think it's broken," Maggie concluded dully, tears brimming in her coal-brown eyes as she studied the blonde haired boy standing across from her.

She'd always hated appearing weak to anyone, especially him and now with the added terror of being near any living, breathing male it was exceptionally difficult to even look Henry in the eyes.

Henry didn't say anything; there was nothing to tell the brunette when she was deathly afraid of him touching her. He didn't blame his best friend for the emotions she was wrestling with but in a situation like this it would have been nice just to pick her up and escape.

"Do you trust me?" He finally uttered, the words few but powerful and destructive to the girl watching him closely.

Maggie stumbled back like she'd been shot, her jaw trembling as she shook her head back and forth, denying the statement. She knew exactly what Henry was offering; she knew that it would result in skin-to-skin contact, what she'd been so desperately avoiding since that night with Jehav. But she also knew that if she didn't accept the young man's offer then they would both perish.

"_Henry never loved you," Jehav whispered, sucking on her sweet spot. "After all, if he loved you then he would be here trying to rescue you."_

"_Your henchman murdered him!" Maggie yelled, clawing at the man's face to distract him. Jehav yelped at the stinging contact before slamming the girl's head down onto the stone floor, watching in contentment as blood began to flow out of a slit in her skull. _

"_He abandoned you!" The rapist answered, laughing manically as the tears began to flow once more down the brunette's cheeks and the hope died from her eyes. "He left you to die here, all alone!"_

The tears were streaming relentlessly down Maggie's cheeks by this point as Jehav's merciless syllables resonated over and over in her mind. For a moment she could see a hazy outline of Jehav where Henry stood, a cruel smirk distorting his once handsome features.

"Henry never loved you; he abandoned you," the ghost-like murderer whispered, his hand reaching out to stroke her cheek.

"No, he didn't," Maggie responded quietly, catching a glimpse of Henry behind the ghastly illusion. And in that moment, power filled her. Power over the man who'd destroyed her. "He would never abandon me."

The smoke drifted away, taking with it the momentarily screeching image of Jehav. Maggie turned her glowing gaze in her best friend's direction, choking out the hardest words she'd ever had to say, "I trust you, Henry. Please save us."

As the flames curled around the next two support beams, disintegrating them right in front of the duo's very eyes Henry traversed the space between them. His surprisingly smooth hands captured her face gently in his and Maggie banished the instinct to flee from him, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Their lips met slowly, sensually and they brushed together for several moments, exposing both of the teenager's vulnerabilities to the other. Tears continued to streak down Maggie's cheeks, tempered by the sudden joy rushing through her system.

Throwing her arms around Henry's neck she deepened the kiss, responding with every bit of love she could muster. It wasn't much for now; she was broken and she knew that, but hopefully over time Henry would be able to put her back together.

The whole building shook as a fraction of the roof collapsed and rain soaked the building, drenching the two young adults as they clung tighter to one another. The fire slowly faded away, expelled by the sudden presence of God's tears. And to Maggie, the rain was a symbol of the Lord's joy for her and Henry's reunion.

"I will always be here to save you," Henry whispered before pressing his drenched forehead against his best friend's.

* * *

In a darkened corner of the security headquarters Demi watched the two teenagers kiss one another yet again, the passion and enveloping love clear even from her position.

"This isn't over," she snarled under her breath, planting a trembling hand against the glass pane of the grimy window. "We've already killed Jasper and you two are next."

"Call our brethren," a hoarse voice rasped weakly from the corner, overlaid with malice. "Have them surround the Bartlett home and kill all occupants by tonight. We will not fail again."

_We will not fail again._

* * *

**SPARKNOTES:**

_**I'm not sure how I felt about this chapter but...eh, oh well. It came out decent. **_

_**As you can see this story is definitely not over. I have a lot more planned for these two popular characters but for now they've discovered their feelings for one another. I hope I didn't make this chapter too mushy; it was meant to be more powerful than anything else, symbolizing that true love can overcome even the darkest of obstacles. **_

_**Review and I'll update quicker! Sorry this one took so long to come out, but I got busy :3**_


	11. Part Ten

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story**

* * *

_**Hey everyone, sorry it's been awhile since the last update, but I've been super busy lately. And you know I'm busy if I'm not writing, because writing is my passion and practically my life right now. But between Econ/Civics, American Lit, Math, Spanish, Piano and so much more I feel like I'm being tugged in a thousand different directions. I want this site to be something that I honestly enjoy doing, not something with my readers who are really pressuring me to update quicker (which no worries, you guys aren't doing that.) **_

_**So, without further ado, I present the next installment of my newest Fanfiction Series :D Please enjoy and review!**_

* * *

_When we truly realize that we are all alone is when we need others the most__ – R. Anthony_

_The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending, and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together._ - Erma Bombeck

_Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death.__ – _Coco Chanel

_Your task is not to seek love, but merely to seek & find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it. – _Rumi

_Nothing is so strong as gentleness. Nothing is so gentle as real strength. – _Frances de Sales

* * *

**P A R T / T E N**

Snowflakes drifted down from the heavens, a complete antithesis from what the Disney channel portrayed them as; the shapeless oblong puffs slid gently across the windshield of the rented BMW, leaving dripping trails in their wake. Streetlamps flickered to light, showering the frost-encrusted trail with their dim reliability. The street was nearly desolate at this time of night, 11:23 pm to be precise, save the cherry red Smart Car zipping along its merry way.

Henry encouraged the engine a bit, smiling contentedly at the accelerator hummed in response. The speed gauge drifted upwards to a mere 54 mph and the boy's emerald orbs flickered over to glance at the signs paralleling the empty road; he made out the enormous 60 written on the faded white rectangles, signifying that he was in no apparent danger of being pulled over.

"Henry?" Maggie's voice murmured wearily and the driver automatically glanced through his peripherals to look at his best friend.

"Yeah, Mags?" He wondered, slowing down a bit so as to avoid a potential collision sometime in the future.

Henry's tone spoke all nonchalance, a clever ruse, for inside his heart a fierce battle raged. There was frustration, of course, for not stopping Jehav in time and anger that fought to bubble over and result in someone's head getting smashed in. But more than any of those supercilious emotions, the single mantra that kept resonating in the boy's very soul was…worry.

Maggie hadn't been the same since he'd rescued her two days ago from the _Hilabiti's _headquarters in San Francisco; from Henry's perspective, there seemed to be an unquenchable desperation tinting the normally proactive female with guilt and fear of sacrilege.

"I never really got to thank you for rescuing me," she whispered, a flicker of gratitude wavering in her drained accent.

"The kiss was thanks enough," Henry responded quietly, grimacing slightly as he heard her gasp audibly.

Maggie didn't say anything. The silence in the car grew to an unsurpassable impasse.

"You know, we do have to talk about the kiss," Henry continued in what he hoped was a light, conversational tone.

"I'd rather not," Maggie admitted rather harshly, a slight _hic _revealing to her best friend exactly what she was going through.

"Go ahead and cry," the young man crooned softly, feeling horrible that he'd ruined the only chance of her somewhat decent mood residing. Stretching his right hand out he attempted to stroke her arm. She flinched away, her breathe catching in mid-inhale.

Maggie only shook her head fanatically, "I don't do crying." Her remark was halting, however, as though even she didn't believe her own statement.

Henry navigated the turn onto their street neatly, turning to glance at the female who sat curled up in a tiny ball on her leather chair; he bit his lip as he noted the tears shimmering in Maggie's russet orbs, wishing that he could do something, anything, to relieve her of her inner torture.

He would rather take the burden of the devil's haunting mockeries upon himself then see her suffer another second. Truthfully, he would have wanted to act on the instinct even if he hadn't developed steadily confusing feelings for the brunette.

"Charles Dickens stated the following in his novel, Great Expectations: Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of earth, overlaying our hard hearts," Henry dictated, daring to flash a quick smile at his cowering friend.

"I'm not really in the mood for your quotes right now, Henry," Maggie snapped, turning away from him to gaze out the window.

Snow clothed the bare trees in a shining white cloak and as the breeze coasted through the park the individual branches shuddered expectantly, raising their knotted faces up towards the full moon. Several multi-colored lights beamed from the trunks, entwining themselves merrily up and around the various scenery.

Maggie found herself smirking a bit as she spotted a solitary laurel tree bending slightly in the whipping wind, several creatively shaped ornaments dangling from the slim extensions. The thought of Greek mythology, to specify a bit: the story of Apollo and his momentary love interest Daphne. Legend goes that after personally ignoring the orders of the gods Apollo chased after Daphne, nearly catching her, only to cry out in shock as she transformed into a laurel tree.

"I'm sorry." The words drifted into her listening ear, nearly indistinguishable from the breeze itself. Only a second later did Maggie realize that it'd been Henry who had apologized. Guilt sunk in.

"No, Henry, if anyone should be apologizing then it's me," she insisted, touching his right hand briefly in a comforting gesture. Just pressing her fingers against her best friend's sent her mind spiraling into terror, pulling back the memory of the night Jehav had forced her to lie down and…_no!_

Maggie snaked her hand back in a flash, hugging her legs to her chest in a vague effort to prevent her heart from leaping out of her body. Tears surged to gather in her mocha orbs, drowning her in the inescapable pain that seemed to constantly taunt her. _I'm no longer a virgin…I was raped…Henry, I had no choice in the matter. _

"I understand," Henry murmured sweetly, purposely not touching her. They were only two words but in the moment it was exactly what Maggie had unconsciously wanted to hear.

Forcing a fragile smile onto her face, the brunette touched Henry on the shoulder, leaving her fingers planted against his clothed arm no matter how terrible it felt. _You didn't break me, Jehav…I can still fight you. _"Thank you."

"You're very welcome," Henry answered cheerfully, turning his gaze back to the road onto to bite back an instinctive shout; police cars swarmed the Barlett resident, their sirens wailing ominously and their lights flashing mesmerizingly. Uncle Bryan stood by the front door confronting several cops at once, his forehead beaded with perspiration.

"Oh my –" he began, shell-shocked.

"Henry, I don't know if I can do this," Maggie whispered, clearly frightened. Her whole body shook with leftover terror from her earlier traumatic experience and the droplets blurred her chocolate irises.

"I'll be right here," the blonde adolescent reassured his best friend, stepping out of the Smart Car. "I promise I won't let anything happen to you, Mags."

"I…I trust you." And with that highly difficult confession Maggie pushed open the passenger door and slipped out, her muscles locking in place as several cops spotted them.

Henry instinctively grasped her hand in his, pulling her behind him a bit in a defensive position, "Good evening gentlemen."

"It's a little late for two teenagers to be roaming around unsupervised, don't you think?" One burly man questioned briskly; he flashed his badge, highlighting the name Lu Beckerman.

The second cop revealed his name to be Mark Harris before demanding, "State your purpose here immediately."

"Uh…I live here?" Henry's response came in more of a question then anything.

Both cops started slightly and the former pulled a faded photograph out of his pocket, holding it up to the dim street light. After glancing back and forth between the two adolescents Lu let a relieved sigh emulate as an embarrassed cough, immediately covered by gruff disappointment, "Yeah, you're Henry Griffin and this…" he motioned to Maggie, "is Margaret Winnock. Your uncle has been worried sick about the both of you."

Henry winced, his grip on his best friend's fingers tightening slightly, "We know." Biting back disappointment as Maggie's hand slipped out of his he traced the path of the yellow tape marking Caution: Crime Scene and met the shocked expression of his uncle.

"H-henry?" Bryan's voice shook with incredulity. When his mortified nephew nodded slightly the older man pulled the blonde teenager into a tight hug. "God, where have you two been?"

Pulling back trivially Henry offered a sympathetic quirk of his mouth, "We'll tell you a little bit inside." He glanced back almost automatically to make sure that Maggie was following him.

"Hello, sir," Maggie articulated smoothly, forcing in a bit of her usual know-it-all temperament to avoid suspicion. _I'm not weak. _

The lines marring Bryan's forehead undulated a bit, "Maggie, the doctors called with some news about your mother."

A bit of the chilly demeanor vanished from Maggie's face, leaving realistic concern, "Is she okay?"

"She's awake," Bryan confirmed with a little smile, "and -"

"Can I see her, please?" The brunette begged, her gaze shimmering with joy for the first time in days.

"Let me finish," the older gentlemen insinuated, pressing his hands in front of him to quiet the blabbering student. "There is a slight snag, I'm afraid."

"What?" The smile had drooped from Maggie's face by now and she glanced anxiously in Henry's direction.

"What is a snag?" Henry asked, confused. Maggie watched as his eyebrows did that adorable little rising-in-sync thing and his head tilted curiously to the side.

"It means a catch in the plan, a problem of sorts," Bryan defined with a little eye roll that signified the blonde haired adolescent's inquiries were nothing new by now.

"So, what is the problem?" Henry continued to wonder, his hazel orbs probing his uncle cautiously for any shift in temperament.

Bryan's silver orbs were snaking from side to side nervously and his lips twitched while managing to remain in a taut line; both were immediate signs as to his apparent guilty conscience.

"What's bothering you, Uncle B?" Henry wondered with a miniscule shrug.

"How do you -" Bryan began.

"It's not that difficult to procure a stereotype of someone's mental state," Henry illuminated wisely. "Your shaking ligaments and shifting gazes tell me that you're feeling intensely guilty about something, something you're not telling us." The blonde determined with a sidewise glance at Maggie.

"Maggie…" Bryan paused to clear his throat. Sympathy glinted in his cerulean orbs. "When your mother emerged from the coma something went awry and the doctors couldn't fix it. She lost her memory."

* * *

Several dark figures skirted the perimeter of the Bartlett residence, their masked faces craned towards the tightly closed windows on the south wall of the building. Malice skirted their clammy skin and piercing vision.

The head of the operation unleashed a menacing chuckle as he spotted the brunette they'd captured several days beforehand rushing through the house, pain beaming in her chocolate orbs. A moment later the blonde headed cultural boy followed her in, his arms outstretching beseechingly, a compassionate smile abroad his lips.

"Boss, there's an entrance over here," one minion prodded the sturdier fellow, bowing his head submissively as he pointed out the slightly ajar window leading to the second story landing.

"Perfect," the leader purred darkly, scratching his disease infested skin with his craggy nails. "We'll attack at midnight and teach these fools a lesson. No one escapes the _Hilabiti _alive."

* * *

Maggie snuggled further into the encompassing warmth of Jasper's comforter as her weary gaze traveled up to meet the ceiling. _How could this happen? I miss you so much, Jasper, every day. _

"Mags?" Henry approached the slit in between the weaving slab of door-frame and the rectangular entrance itself. "Are you alright?"

"Why on earth would I be okay, Henry?" She whispered in a devastated tone, tears clotting her voice before she pushed them away.

Squeezing through the gap the blonde haired adolescent seated himself Indian style on the edge of the bed, waiting to see whether his best friend would accept his presence or shove him away.

He'd used this tactic many times in South Korea when gaining the trust of the elders and children and even now it came in handy whenever he just needed a silent moment to retreat into his inner volume of serenity.

Finally Henry felt Maggie's lithe fingers slip through his calloused one's; she squeezed his hand weakly and he tightened his hold on her instinctively, "I'm so sorry, Maggie." There was really nothing more he could say.

"I'll be fine." Once again the brunette shoved her feelings aside for the scientific exploration issue at hand. "I have to show you something important."

"What?" Henry wondered, inwardly wincing as her grasp slid out of his and she stretched, moving towards Jasper's favorite plaque on the wall. The inscription from Billy Graham had been recounted so many times, almost to the point of a nauseous outcome.

"There's another piece to the mystery, something I discovered just before Jehav called with news of your abduction," Maggie stated formally, shuddering as she brought to mind the horrible man who'd ruined her life.

Her thoughts threatened to wander to the night he'd stolen something irreplaceable but with a huge effort the brunette blocked it out. _There's no good crying over it now. _

Flipping open the mini hatch on the plaque Maggie worked viciously to twist the heart right side up once more and had the satisfaction of watching Henry Griffin be caught off guard for once in his life. His hazel orbs eyed the inscription on the grated wall normally hidden by Jasper's prized possession, attempting to decipher it in his normal perceptive way.

_Wer wünscht, an durch das Portal vorbeizugehen, muss das Kennwort haben._

"Can you translate this?" Henry motioned to the quote questioningly.

"It's German," Maggie pointed out with a tiny shrug, "and my basis of knowledge on that specific language is a bit rusty."

He only looked at her as if to say '_well can you try decoding it?_'

Taking a fluctuating breath Maggie hesitantly traced the letters of the inscription, mouthing the foreign syllables and rolling her tongue with the abstract pronunciations.

Finally, she replied, "I could be off, but I believe it says: _Whoever wishes to pass through the portal must have the password._"

"But that doesn't make any sense," Henry remarked with a slight frown. "There's nowhere to key in this supposed password even if we knew what it was."

"As a matter of fact there _is _somewhere to type in the password," the brunette corrected triumphantly. Her tiny fingers brushed aside a bit of gathering dust on the back of the enclosed space, brushing over the keypad she'd discovered before her untimely capture. "There's an indented box here with the letters of the German alphabet that we can use to place our answer."

Henry paused to glance approvingly in her direction and Maggie felt her cheeks grow warm, a rosy hue darkening her skin. These new feelings for the blonde haired adventurer were a horrible investment to begin with but now she couldn't seem to voice a heated opinion on the issue anymore. Jasper was dead and she loved Henry; there was no simpler way to infer it.

"Now," Maggie continued haltingly, "to figure out the password."

For a minute both teens wore despondent, clueless expressions until finally Henry's face brightened with understanding.

"I think we're going about this too vague," he insinuated. "We have to narrow down the qualifications."

"Very well, what do you suggest?" Maggie countered with a miniature smirk.

"What was the one thing the _Hilabiti _treasured above all else?" Henry asked her, a sly smile twisting up the corners of his mouth.

She thought for a long minute before understanding what he was getting at, "Adolf Hitler. They would have given up anything and everything to be on his good side, if he had a good side, that is." Maggie mused thoughtfully, biting a trailing strand of her thick brown locks.

"Right. So what is a specific phrase that might have corresponded to Hitler's regime?" Henry continued on in the trail, his fingers knotting as he fought to come up with the answer.

Suddenly Maggie snapped her fingers, a delighted beam to her russet orbs, "I've got it."

Instantly Henry's attention had directed to the brunette, "What?"

"It's been right under our noses the whole time," Maggie hinted, tracing the edge of the disk named _Hilabiti. _"It's Hitler's signature phrase, the words his subjects would continually announce in supplication to their leader."

"Hail Hitler," Henry whispered in disbelief. Instantly the boy's hands had stretched towards the keypad to type in the exact syllables but Maggie's sharp retort halted him in his tracks.

"No, you'll type it in wrong!" She chided.

"But I thought…" The blonde male died off, his nose twitching with bemusement.

"The phrase _is _Hail Hitler but we're looking at a German alphabet here, so the phrase must be in German." She replied firmly.

"Okay, so…?" Henry gazed, undeterred, at the brunette. "Translation, please?"

Maggie tasted the foreign words on her chapped lips once more before she delivered them to her best friend, trepidation resulting in the trembling of her whole petite form.

_Begrüßen Sie Hitler._

Henry pressed in each individual letter until the whole row of words had been instilled into the keypad. The whole wall gave a great groan and shuddered seemingly of its own accord.

Both teens stepped backwards automatically, shielding their eyes as dust began to plume from the steadily gaping crack in the wall that wasn't there before. Several more grating sounds ensured before everything fell into a dreary silence.

"Maggie, you were right," Henry whispered, awestruck. "C'mon, let's go." He grasped her hand and attempted to pull her into the cavernous depths of the gap.

"Wait." The brunette pulled him back to his immense dissatisfaction. "We have absolutely no clue what's down there."

"But that's part of the adventure," the blonde exclaimed excitedly.

"Henry, need I remind you that these psychos _murdered Jasper_!" Maggie shrieked in a little too convicted tone, biting back a shocked retort as Henry slapped a hand over her lips, silencing her.

"Kids?" Bryan Bartlett's worried tone resonated from downstairs and the duo's eyes went wide with fright as they picked the distinct sound of feet pounding mutedly against the stairwell.

"We have to hide the secret passageway," Maggie whispered in a thunder-struck rasp. In a split second Henry's accentuated biceps were heaving at the wall in a desperate attempt to close it.

"Henry Griffin, what is that abominable noise?" Bryan roared rather heatedly, stomping the rest of the up the stairs and over the landing until he reached what used to be his son's bedroom.

Maggie's breathing hitched as the older man's fist rapped smartly on the faded birch wood of the door, "What are we going to do? There's no way he'll miss it!"

Henry didn't answer his uncle's demands; but the wheels in his brain were whirring tremendously. There was in fact a plausible solution to this mess but the young man was pretty certain Maggie wouldn't like it, even after their episode in the _Hilabiti's _lair.

But there was no time to think about the brunette's steaming lectures in this moment.

And so, with a resolute sigh the blonde lowered his head until his hair was skimming Maggie's neck. A second later his moist lips pressed against her satin smooth skin and he grimaced under his breath as he heard her gasp and buck slightly into him.

"What are you doing?" She whispered in a choked tone. Images of Jehav's slimy lips pressing against her navel circulated ominously, threatening to pull her under a whirlwind of frightened emotions. _This is just Henry._

Pulling back to gaze for a moment through lust-filled hazel orbs Henry shot Maggie a quick reassuring smile before slamming his lips against hers. Although the kiss itself was rather rough it was more in a passionate sense, equalized on both sides, unlike the dominative caresses Jehav has initialized.

Henry's tongue slithered into her mouth, stroking her bottom row of glimmering teeth then and Maggie's thoughts practically exploded into mush. _This shouldn't be affecting me so much…I shouldn't be feeling this way. Because if I do love him and things go awry then he'll leave me all alone. _

Just then Bryan barged in furiously, preparing to assault the duo with a fantastic lecture, only to halt with his mouth agape. Anger battled thankfulness with a side of pride over the sight of the two teenagers kissing fiercely, their limbs entwined to the point of singleness.

Henry sucked a bit harder on Maggie's mouth, drawing her to release several muffled whimpers. Adrenaline surged through the young man coupled with a raging desire never to let the brunette go; for although he could clearly hear his uncle sputtering and stewing on whether or not to interrupt them he continued to play along with the kissing façade.

Finally Bryan Bartlett crept out of the room and down the stairs, calling from his current position, "Kids, I'm off to the store; expect me to be no more than three quarters of an hour."

Henry finally released Maggie's lips, his arms still resting comfortably around his best friend's waist as he replied, "Dop-e!"

Meanwhile Maggie was fighting the natural impulse to slap Henry clear across his finely arched face. Her lips tingled like fireworks on the Fourth of July and her hair felt totally messed up; she probably looked like some whore now, a prostitute on psychotic drugs or something.

"What was _that_?" The brunette finally managed to hiss in no more than a shocked mumble.

Henry had already released Maggie's hips, wheeling towards the gap in the wall and bracing himself as he pushed it open a bit more. The scent of rotting flesh wafted ominously into the bedroom, sending both of them to gag horrifically.

"I had to distract Uncle Bryan or he would have discovered the _Hilabiti's _secret passage," he finally answered, mussing up his hair a bit as he prepared to slide through the gap in the crumbling wall.

"I hope you realize that it meant nothing," Maggie snapped, a dead lie from her perspective. She winced as soon as the words slipped out in a verbally defensive slap.

"Liar," Henry commented off-handedly, his arm waving into the abyss before him almost as a warding gesture. His instincts were telling him that something horrible resided in the dark tunnels ahead but at the same time they had no choice but to enter and find out how their fate would complicate.

"Fine," the brunette admitted to his statement, hunching her shoulders as her chocolate orbs whirled around the room, "but that still doesn't mean we can be together."

"Why not?" This time the blonde haired explorer was entirely bemused. "Our friendship has transcended the expected brother-sisterly affection spectrum and so it is entirely natural to transgress into the mating sequence."

"There won't be a 'mating sequence," Maggie muttered harshly, turning her back on the male to glance at the nearly deserted street. Headlights flashed momentarily, revealing Bryan Bartlett's beat up BMW as it zoomed up towards the nearest supermarket a number of blocks to the north-east.

Several tense moments filtered past and the clock chimed midnight on the dot.

Suddenly a bang echoed from downstairs and both teens tensed immediately.

"What was that?" Maggie hissed, her auburn irises twinkling with unrest.

Another bang erupted, followed by the breaking of glass. _The window. _

"They've come for us," Henry predicted blankly.

His head turned in Maggie's direction and the brunette experienced a momentary flash of guilt as she spotted the unhindered hurt pooling in his russet gaze. "Mags, grab a handful of stuff and pack it into your satchel." He motioned towards her Native American purse.

Maggie didn't even question the blonde's command, her heart sinking as he crept towards the landing, his ear cocked in the direction of the living room. Her hands grasped at first a cell phone and then Jasper and Henry's current funding in the massive amount of $206, followed by a blanket. After saving all the data from her laptop onto Jasper's Toshiba she shoved the latter into the medium-sized cross-strap duffel, securing it firmly and testing its weight.

Just then she recalled the necessity of food and water, nutrients that would supplement their life span. However, the brunette didn't dare clamber downstairs, for jeering mutters clearly expanded from that very source; however, she knew that Jasper had always stashed several chocolate bars and H20 up her at sporadic times.

Several more bangs reared from the intruders and Maggie flinched as a door slammed in Bryan's office. Worry for Henry blossomed in increasingly difficult to subdue quantities but finally the young woman succeeded in knotting down her frivolous emotions for the time being, at least.

A hand landed on the brunette's shoulder just as she discovered Jasper's candy bar stash and instinctively she screamed. Instantly a warm, male hand was pressed against her lips and Henry's voice was whispering, "Stay quiet and squeeze through the crevice, now."

"I can't," she argued as victorious cheers voiced thunderously and several thumps echoed from the stairwell. "We have absolutely no clue where it goes. We could die!"

"If we stay here we'll definitely die," Henry pointed out without a waver in his strict tone. "You've got to face danger sometime, Margaret."

"Don't call me that," Maggie growled, clenching her fists.

The desecrators smashed down Bryan Barlett's bedroom door in one fierce blow, sending slivers of wood raining down in all directions.

"I'm sorry, Maggie; please, we have to go now," Henry begged, taking hold of her hand as he literally dragged her towards the pungent stench of death emitting from the dark cavernous depths of the crevice some few feet away.

Henry twisted Hitler's symbol on the plaque as Maggie slipped through the gap and into the darkness, her chocolate orbs widening in terror as Jasper's murderers sliced down the bedroom door.

The portal closed just as the blonde haired youth slipped through, a piece of his shirt snagging on the wood-worked frame. Henry's arms slid automatically around Maggie as they stumbled and fell into what appeared as a bottomless pit, terror seizing both their hearts.

All Maggie could muster to think were four words. _Is this the end?_

* * *

The bosses' fingers closed around the crinkled paper, his gaze glimmering with shock as he read the words there within. _Jasper knew we were coming after him, which means these two brats know. _

"Sir, we checked the whole perimeter of the residence and there's no sign of Griffin or Winnock." A measly lad with ginger colored locks and shimmering oceanic orbs reported weakly, saluting in the typical manner.

"They've escaped," The masked man snarled under his breath, crumpling the hateful paper that could potentially be the beginning of a blood-lusting revolution.

The print still danced in the member's mind:_ They're trying to kill me, I swear… I don't know who these people are, but if something does happen to me, something horrible, then I know you'll do everything in your power to investigate it. _

"Shall we ignite this property?" The lower ranked member stuttered fearfully, attempting to stand tall and imposing. He failed miserably when standing next to his leader.

"No…just the kitchen," the former chuckled darkly. "I can't wait to see the expression on Bartlett's face when he suspects his own nephew set his kitchen on fire. It shall be a momentous occasion."

_You think you've won, Henry Griffin, but this is only the beginning. I shall find you and your little friend too and when I do you'll wish you'd never been born._

* * *

**SPARKNOTES: **

_**Yes, I know this is far overdue and it's probably really boring but I've got major writing block on this story for no apparent reason. Whatever. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I really didn't like the end, but then again the writer is always most critical of her/his own work.**_

_**Review and perhaps prompt me to deliver the next installment :D**_

_**-mktoddsparky**_


	12. Part Eleven

**Omnipotent: A Menry Story **

_**Yes, I deserved to be slapped for my lack of enthusiasm for this story. (Slaps hand and sighs.) Now for my defense. I'm graduating soon and I've been busy with college prep, my new job, and a whole host of family problems that left me with absolutely no desire to write anything. I actually wrote this months ago, and just edited it today, and I'm sorry it's not long but at least it's something. I should have the next part up soon. **_

_Greatness, in the last analysis, is largely bravery - courage in escaping from old ideas and old standards and respectable ways of doing things. – James Robinson_

_When you're safe at home you wish you were having an adventure; when you're having an adventure you wish you were safe at home. – Thornton Wilder_

_Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it. – A. Smith_

_I'm interested in how artists and writers do this, using art as therapy. Escaping into the worlds we create. We're all victims and few of us are truly free. – David Lloyd_

* * *

**.:P A R T.:.E L E V E N:. **

* * *

Wind whipped fiercely around Maggie's body as she fell down a seemingly endless tunnel. Forcing her eyes open, Maggie happened to glance over at one of the earthen walls of the tunnel; her hand flew to cover her mouth, muffling the instinctive scream that bubbled forward. The rotting remains of a corpse's hand extended from the dirt towards her, the bones in the skeleton's fingers pointed accusingly in her direction. _What kind of sick person would shove a body into the ground this deep? And how did they get it down this far?_

Several thousand more feet materialized below Maggie, revealing a multitude of cracked skulls with gaping, toothless mouths, horror radiating from their empty eye sockets. Crimson splattered the walls, long since dried onto the various roots and protruding branches and the metallic scent of blood clogged the air. It resembled the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland, except a million times more realistic.

And that's when Maggie became aware of something. The walls around her weren't actually moving and she kept seeing the same skulls and blood spattered walls appear. There was only one explanation for this strange phenomenon, she decided.

"Henry," Maggie called into the darkness, but there was no answer.

Suddenly Maggie's body slammed into the cold earth, knocking the air right out of her. Gasps permeated the silence as Maggie fought to breathe. Her eyes were bulging, her lungs heaving; sweat was beading on her forehead, and the room was starting to spin. And then, finally, she managed to inhale shakily.

"Henry," she whispered once more, desperately searching for her best friend, only to swallow hard when she spotted him lying unconscious a number of feet away. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth but other than that he looked physically intact.

Maggie pressed her ear against Henry's chest, and she sighed in relief as she picked up on a steady heartbeat. Emotion vaulted through her and for a second she wished to fling her arms around Henry and be reassured that everything was okay. She sat back – because clearly she was going crazy – and allowed herself some personal space. All she could do was wait for Henry to wake up.

"I'm scared, Henry," Maggie admitted a moment later. It was so dark down here and the faint smell of blood gave the impression that they could rot down here without anyone noticing. "I don't want to be; I want to be powerful and limitless like you, but…" She cut off abruptly, watching his shivering eyelids.

Moments later Henry rasped, "You don't have to be scared, Mags. I'll protect you."

Instantly she flushed beet red, standing up and placing firm hands on her hips. "What are you talking about, Henry? I can take care of myself, thank you very much!" Inside her thoughts were stammering how glad she was that he was okay.

"Why do you always do that?" He questioned weakly as he shifted onto bent knees.

Pointedly ignoring the question Maggie twisted, brushing his cheek with the palm of her hand while her brusque expression softened a bit, "Are you alright?"

Henry sat up immediately, wincing as his waist throbbed, "I will be." Standing up slowly, he looked around him. "Do you have any idea how many miles down we are?"

Maggie smirked, mentally patting herself on the back for figuring out something before Henry. "We're not that far down," she said, "maybe sixty feet at most." She walked in the opposite direction from Henry, kneeling down beside a strip of black cording and a bulky machine with a wired front.

"What's that?" Henry wondered, following her.

"It's all an illusion," Maggie said, looking up at him. "When we fell I noticed that the images on the walls were the same and this has now proved my hypothesis." She patted the machine. "We just fell down a wind tunnel which this machine was controlling, and were duped into believing that there were corpses in the walls by this projection lens." She prodded the lens poking out from the wind machine.

"Clever," Henry said, looking around him once more in that perceptive way of his. And then his expression lightened and he began to walk away from here.

"Um, where are you going?" Maggie asked.

Henry smiled innocently back at her, "There's a tunnel over here." He pointed towards the far wall cast in th shadows and, sure enough, Maggie picked out the outline of an archway.

Ignoring the ache in her muscles, Maggie followed him, slipping through the opening with a little shiver of her shoulders, "It feels like this tunnel is going to collapse any minute." Her fingers unconsciously wove around the strap of the satchel she'd packed in Henry's bedroom.

"Did anything break?" Henry wondered, pointing at the bag.

"Um…" Maggie dug through the satchel, "Jasper's laptop screen is slightly cracked, the memory card has popped out and the mouse is missing. The candy bars and other miscellaneous items are pretty much crushed but edible." She reported with a hint of a smile.

"Well, it's better than nothing," Henry said, turning a bend and coming face to face with a plaque that read: _Too much is never enough. _

"It's a dead end," Maggie mumbled just before she spotted the quote as well, her shoulders stiffening. For below the quote was another keypad, this time in English.

"No, not a dead end; just another puzzle," Henry mused, chuckling to himself, to his brunette co-host's utter bemusement.

"Why are you laughing?" Maggie asked him, finding his laughter inflaming. They were trapped underground in a passageway that was probably going to collapse any minute and he was _laughing_. Would she have to kiss him to make him stop, she wondered, flushing at the thought.

"This is just like the first mystery the three of us solved in DC," the blonde hared adolescent responded with a bittersweet sigh. "Don't you remember; Dante's murder?"

"Who knew things would come to this," she muttered, biting back a wail as the ceiling groaned and several clods of dirt imploded with dusty pops.

"Only difference is, I have absolutely no idea what the answer to this could be," Henry admitted, hanging his head low.

Several seconds passed before Maggie concluded, "The answer is Mel Gibson."

"Who is he?" The young man wondered with a tilt of his head.

"Mel Gibson used to be an unknown Australian actor but after staring in several movies he made himself millions of dollars," Maggie began in teacher mode. "He got into drugs, alcohol, sex…you name it, eventually landing him in an inescapable depression. That quote practically came attached to his name wherever he went," she finished with a little cough.

Henry was already typing in the famous actor's name.

A groaning noise echoed from the earth just to their left and Maggie flinched, biting her lower lip so fiercely that blood spilled from a new cut in the muscle. The gash began throbbing and inwardly the brunette cursed herself for her current displacement of mind.

Finally the dirt shifted, exposing a new archway that wasn't there a moment before.

"That…that's not possible!" Maggie stuttered in disbelief, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Apparently it is possible," Henry replied with a sympathetic glance in her direction, motioning towards the new opening in once dense soil.

"None of this is scientific," Maggie cried, grumbling under her breath as she slipped nervously through the gap in the earth. Her fingers dug into her hips as the earthen walls groaned again.

Seconds later Henry followed. Immediately both teens began to scope out the room they had just stepped into. It was small enough, shaped like a rectangle. The only difference was the flowing gold script decorating the walls.

_And__ they __heard__ a __great__voice__from__heaven__saying__ unto __them,__ Come __up__hither.__And__ they ascended __up__to__heaven__in__ a __cloud;__and__their__enemies__beheld__them…_

The verse from the King James Bible repeated endless times on the brown walls, eventually curving to an end in an oval on the ceiling. The gold strip faded to a pointed fork, like a serpent's flickering tongue.

"This doesn't make any sense," Henry murmured with the furrowing of his eyebrows. "The _Hilabiti _are clearly followers of Hitler's tyrannical regime and measures, so why paste a verse from a Christian bible on the wall?"

"It's their own private little clue," Maggie deduced a moment later, tracing the edge of the words _come up hither. _Her eyes shot up to connect with the center of the ceiling outlined by the shimmering bible verse. "Anybody who actually made it down here would assume that the _Hilabiti _had led them to a dead end, signified by the bible verse."

"Which means there has to be a hidden panel in here somewhere," Henry concluded with a brisk nod, quickly beginning to scope out the dusty perimeter.

"There," Maggie pointed out just seconds later, motioning at the slight crevice in the earthen ceiling, visible only because of the curving golden script. In the center of the concealed opening glittering syllables shifted into focus: _Come up hither._ "As the verse says…come up hither."

"I'll give you a boost," Henry offered, extending his hands towards her waist.

Instinctively the brunette shifted backwards, a momentary image of Jehav resurfacing to taunt her. Even days after the horrific incident Maggie still battled internal trauma; whenever anyone attempted to touch her she would flinch away and curl into a little ball and struggle to breathe. _How can I possibly deserve touch after what I let that monster do to me? _

"I'm sorry, Maggie; I…I forgot," he apologized quietly.

"Don't apologize," she responded with a little shrug of her shoulders, dismissing her earlier rejection. Her tough exterior writhed in a desperate attempt to conceal her inward panic at the situation. _Be strong…for Jasper. _"I'm fine." She motioned for Henry to boost her up.

Henry's eyebrows lifted suspiciously at her nonchalant attitude before his fingers linked and he cupped his hands several feet above the earthen floor, "Push your foot off my hands and you should be able to reach the panel."

She did as told, forgetting about her physical squeamishness as she struggled to move the panel overhead. With a groan it finally moved to the side and revealed a later stretching upwards. Maggie crawled towards the ladder, her feet settling firmly on the first rung.

And that's when it happened.

Spikes whirled from the walls around her, their sharp tips traveling closer and closer to her body. _It's a trap - a trap meant to kill_. Maggie let out a desperate cry, wiggling back down the panel in an attempt not to get punctured. But her sleeve caught on one of the spikes and trapped her.

"Maggie, you've got to get out of there!" Henry yelled, his hazel eyes wide with panic.

"I'm trying!" Maggie wailed, yanking on her sleeve. But it wouldn't budge and she screamed as one of the spikes began piercing the skin of her cheek.

Henry started as something dripped onto his hand and he held it up towards his face. Instantly he flinched. It was blood…Maggie's blood.

A single scream pierced the air.


End file.
